


paddy's pub: the hottest gay bar in philadelphia

by mondaymilk



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexual Dennis Reynolds, Canon-Typical Behavior, Closeted Mac McDonald, Dennis Reynolds POV, Deviates From Canon, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mac McDonald POV, Mutual Pining, Pining Mac McDonald, Slow Burn, probably ooc but i try, sweet sweet pining, why are gay people like this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaymilk/pseuds/mondaymilk
Summary: the gang decides to keep the gay bar around. some interesting outcomes ensue.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. dennis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “hello, all,” dennis said, taking on a tall, glamorous tone. “we are the homosexual couple that owns this bar, and we would just like to say thank you for coming out tonight -” he chucked a bit. “pun not intended, of course.”
> 
> “yes, and we are madly in love,” mac pitched in, not all that helpfully. he pressed himself closer to dennis, and dennis remembered a moment too late that he was, in fact, allowed to react. he undid their hands and went for slinking an arm around mac’s shoulder, eyeing the nonplussed crowds that hovered nearby.

“three-hundred six, three-hundred seven…” dennis looked up from the pile of cash in his hands and gave the gang a shit-eating grin. “another decent night if i’ve ever seen one.” 

dee scoffed. “yeah right, maybe for you dicks. i worked my ass off the whole night, you know, and got zip out of it.”

“dee, i don’t think you’ve ever worked your ass off a day in your life.” dennis rolled his eyes.“besides, it’s not our fault all our new patrons find us so handsome.” he made a show of preening himself, and mac reached out to high-five him. this, naturally, elicited eye-rolls from dee, frank, and charlie in impressive unison. 

“yeah, i’m a bit shocked by that, actually,” frank said. “since when were our cute little twink regulars into bears like you?”

“okay, no, neither of these scrawny assholes are bears,” dee said. “you’d be twinks. if you’re lucky.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” dennis barked.

“nothing, nothing… just that you might be graying around the edges, is all. makes you a little old to be a twink, don’tcha think?”

“we are literally the same age, dee. you are my sister.”

“well, some people just age better than others.” she flipped her hair over her shoulder. there were no high fives this time around, but, to her credit, no eye-rolls either.

“still not convinced i’m not a bear,” mac said. “i mean, come on.” 

“ _come on _what?” dennis said, seething. “you realize none of us can be any of these things, because they are__ _ __ gay- _ only terms, right? so, unless i’m missing out on something here, none of us are twinks, or bears, or anything of the like!” __

____

__

this stunned the group into a silence that was, quite possibly, the most miraculous moment of dennis’s week. in the brief pause in which all eyes lingered on him, dennis seized the moment.

“i would make a fine otter, though,” he said. “i’m slim, you see? but with a little masculine bite to me.”

“say masculine bite again and i’ll show you exactly what a masculine bite is,” dee said.

“so, are you trying to tell us something, or…” charlie trailed off curiously.

“jesus. no.” dennis threw his hands in the air. “it’s about the - image. mac, come on, we’re going home.”

“okay,” dee said, “sure. just go home to your cute little shared apartment with mac where you two watch the same movie every week and sleep in the same bed every night or whatever.” she cracked a grin.

dennis mustered as much chagrin as humanly possible, his store of which was running disappointingly low, and responded, “you bird-brained bitch, dee, we have our own rooms.” he turned on his heel and made a swift exit, mac right at his heels.

“speaking of movies,” mac said, when they had reached the car, “it is  _ kind of _ predator night.” he angled his face upwards at dennis as he said this last part, his brown eyes growing soft with hesitation. 

dennis swallowed back an argument, hardly energized enough to do otherwise. he rubbed at his forehead, then opened the car door, vanishing mac from his eyeline. “okay, mac, sure. let’s watch predator.”

ten minutes into predator, and mac was out like a light.

should’ve known better, dennis thought. they’d watched the movie so many times, at one point or another it wasn’t even necessary to keep your eyes open to know what was happening. besides, lately mac had been getting especially knocked out by work nights at the bar. ever since they’d decided to permanently become a gay bar, mac had been out on the floor every night, making sure patrons got the best service, spreading good cheer, things like that. among all the changes that had occurred to their business lately, mac’s behavior was one of those that dennis didn’t question. he figured mac was just making up for lost time, what with the bar finally having business and all. why look into something if the results were just going to be positive in the long run, anyway? 

dennis glanced over at mac’s sleeping form as it stirred almost imperceptibly beside him. mac had fallen asleep in such a position that he could have almost been awake, if not for the gentle fluttering of his shut eyes and the deep exhales leaving his parted mouth. dennis looked away.

as dennis took another swig of his beer, mac suddenly shifted in his sleep, and his head lolled onto dennis’s shoulder. dennis froze in place, knowing a single move might awake the light sleeper.

after a moment, dennis allowed himself to exhale. another beer swig, and whatever uncomfortable, foreign feeling had lodged itself into his throat went swiftly down with it.

mac awoke near the movie’s conclusion, the absence of his head on dennis’s shoulder a sudden shock. mac, however, was more comfortably coming to. his eyes fluttered open slowly and tiredly as he shifted himself into a more proper position. 

“sorry, man,” mac said. “didn’t mean to crash on you.”

“wha-?!” dennis replied incredulously. “doesn’t matter to me.”

mac made a face. “okay. sure, bro, whatever. i think i’m gonna head to my room and go back to sleep.” 

“uh - are you sure?” ever since the two had moved, mac had taken on a tendency to become puppy-like in the evenings, in that he frequently demanded the two sleep in the same bed. in an attempt to ease mac’s stress over the fire, dennis agreed. the two might have clashed on a lot of issues, but one thing dennis couldn’t fight for was saying no to mac. every time it even became a question. there was something about mac’s eyes, man. it was like the whole universe had unraveled inside one asinine skull. he could hardly muster a regular sentence, let alone a rejection, when he looked into them too long. dennis had convinced himself they had some hypnotic quality to anyone who came across them. like a pocket watch or some shit.

mac’s voice was drifting through the semi-consciousness dennis had spiraled into. “yeah, yeah,” he was responding. “‘m tired, and all that.”

“okay. yeah. that sounds - good.” 

“alright.” mac spared an ounce of energy to crack a grin at dennis, patting him affectionately on the shoulder. “hey, i think we should touch up your hair tomorrow, dude. it’s getting to that point.”

dennis scoffed, recalling the contents of the night’s earlier conversation. “i’ll have to see about that.”

mac was right, of course, as the mirror confirmed. it took dennis a couple glances to realize the small detail mac had so effortlessly spotted first. goddamn typical. dennis might’ve raised a fist and smashed the mirror in one swift strike if not for mac’s appearance in the doorframe at that moment. 

“gotta brush my teeth,” mac said, voice shy. and just like that, the night’s events remained definitively un-shattered.

the next morning, dennis and mac stayed in before the bar’s opening. mac stood behind dennis in their bathroom with a paper bowl full of hair dye. dennis surveyed himself in the mirror carefully, every flaw feeling highlighted. must have been the sleep he was losing what with all the bar’s new business.

“hey, man, you alright?” mac asked.

“fine,” dennis snapped. to the best of his knowledge, it was true. he just took on moods every now and then, that was all. anyway, dennis knew mac wouldn’t press further. this was the nature of their relationship; no one prodded below the surface. on just about anything.

“here, let me help.” mac set down the dye and put his hands on dennis’s shoulders, starting to massage. dennis closed his eyes for half a heartbeat, embracing the fading tension, until he grew acutely aware of what was happening, and the stress snapped back into his body like a rubber band, anxiety ricocheting through his shoulder blades. 

“i said i’m fine!” dennis snapped. “get off of me.” 

“alright, man, okay.” mac threw up his hands indignantly, then dropped them by his sides with a sharp  _ snap  _ that seemed to ricochet through the air. “i’m sorry.” his voice lost whatever edge it had mustered moments ago. dennis’s stomach tightened.

“whatever, bro, i just - i just don’t need a massage. i need to cover up these goddamn gray spots so i can show up to work tonight without looking like a fifty-year old man.”

“couldn’t do that if you tried,” mac said, cheesy grin returning. he picked up the tools. dennis wasn’t about to watch mac in the mirror, so he watched himself instead. he watched a hand place itself on his shoulder for steadiness, watched another one push back the layers of his hair to reach the underside. mac’s hand was a tad unsteady, as it almost always was, but he managed, and soon, as his hair grew a shade darker with the wet dye, dennis could feel he was returning to his old self. he watched his face, cool and unflappable, and let his good old confidence swell in his chest; there was that perfect symmetry, that jawline cut from the cloth of the gods.

another day of being perfect. another day of being pure steel. nothing could take dennis down.

  
  


mac and dennis sauntered into the bar at around three that afternoon, greeting the rest of the gang with their typical noisy chuminess. today, though, where there were usually at least a couple amiable responses, the mens’ entrance was met with silence.

frank slammed a newspaper down on the bar table.

“‘paddy’s pub is philly’s local gay bar for the straights,’” he read. today, his unflappable  _ frank _ -like edge was especially prominent. “look at what some corporate ass-wipe queer had to say about us. since when did they get so high and mighty?”

“i mean, have you read past the headline, frank? it kind of makes sense.” dee was opening a beer with one hand and steadying the article with the other. she read aloud. “‘while paddy’s pub should be a big leap forward in gay nightlife in philadelphia, it’s an experience that falls flat. the bar is run by white men and a woman, all of whom are certainly straight, and seem more in it for the profit than anything else. while it is a good place to meet others and feel safe, it’s not a place to find any pride in. it is the bare minimum, and as queer philly patrons, it’s not hard to say we deserve more.’”

“so who among us was acting ‘heterosexual’?” charlie demanded, putting the word in dramatic air quotes.

dee scoffed. “you guys, they’re gay, not blind.” when the gang leered at her, she gave. “okay, and i may have also flirted with a couple of patrons here and there.”

“what the hell dee, you idiot!” dennis knew the lines by heart at this point.

“what?? i thought maybe i could coax a lil’ bisexuality out of them, you know? i forgot how  _ cute _ gay guys are. plus, you two aren’t exactly the most believable bunch around! ever heard of gaydar?”

“c’mon, i think we pass the gaydar test pretty well.” mac grinned and sidled up next to dennis for surveillance. dee looked the pair up and down. 

“you wear that t-shirt just about every night,” she commented dryly.

mac started. “it’s _ comfortable. _ what’s the problem?”

“the _ problem  _ is that you’re gross, and gay guys see right through gross.” she looked to the rest of the gang. “can one of you dicks show mac what hygiene is, please? charlie, not you. or frank. actually. just - dennis, can you lend him a button down or something and come right back here? i’m gonna get some rainbows up in this bitch.”

“i’m really shocked that you of all people are supposedly tanking our homo ratings,” dennis said with a sidelong glance at mac as he started the car.

mac sputtered in near unison with the engine. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“relax, man, it’s just that you’ve kinda been all over our new patrons lately… hanging around the boys an awful lot, if you know what i mean.” dennis grinned knowingly, not removing his eyes from the road.

mac continued to choke on air. “me? all over them? i’m just doing my part, you know. maybe if you actually stepped in every once in a while and tried to do what i do, we wouldn’t be having this problem!”

“i’m doing just fine, mac, thank you. okay? no need to be so weirdly defensive. for all we know, this is neither of our faults, and we’re both playing our roles just as we should be. in the meanwhile, though, we’re going to overcompensate, or do whatever the hell dee needs us to do to get us off of her back.”

in this case, overcompensating meant handing mac a sleek polo and dennis tying a sweater around his already-pastel top.

“there. look at us.” dennis put an arm around mac’s shoulder in the mirror, gave him an affectionate pat. mac grinned at him in the mirror, and they made a swift exit.

when the two arrived back at the bar, dee was teetering on a stool, stringing neon lights across the back wall of the bar. “we’re an irish catholic pub,” she said, by way of explanation. “it doesn’t exactly scream gay-friendly.”

“should i take down the cross, too, or what?” dennis asked.

“no! don’t you dare.” mac’s voice cut through the pub’s daytime lull easily. he cleared his throat. “there’s no need. if they’re gonna be out here, being gay, they should at least know god is watching.”

“not sure that’s exactly what will go through their heads, but sure. whatever.” dee spoke as she strung, not looking back. “as long as you two make up for it.”

mac and dennis exchanged nervous glances.

“us?” dennis said. “how exactly are  _ we _ apart of this?”

“well, you two own the bar, don’t you? so, i think you have some responsibility in this plan.”

“didn’t realize there was a plan,” mac muttered.

“yup! there is now. and you two are at the heart of it. i need you to be dating tonight for me, okay? or a couple, or whatever you can pull off. just - look like you’re an item, for god’s sake.”

this time, as mac glanced at dennis, dennis looked down. he quickly contorted whatever unwelcome expression had crossed his face into one of pensiveness.

“okay. let’s get this shit over with,” he said finally, glancing back up at mac.

as the sun began to set and patrons began to trickle into the bar, mac and dennis sat across from each other in the back office, readying themselves for the night’s plan. dee had even snuck a few dashes of rainbow glitter into the back office, dennis noticed, though by accident or on purpose it couldn’t be said.

“we’d better head out there soon,” dennis said. he tried to make the words sound easy, offhanded, but they felt clumsy on his tongue. “i imagine dee won’t want to work alone for long.”

“the longer i stay in here, the longer i get to be a straight man,” mac grumbled.

dennis rolled his eyes. “it’s one night, mac. not even. we prove to them that we’ve got our own set of gays, look cute for the angry twinks, and then make our exit. it could not be more simple.” he reached for mac’s collar, and mac leapt away. “relax, asshole, i know we’re not boyfriends yet. i’m just fixing your buttons. we have to look the part, you know.” dennis stepped back into the gap mac had created, and fiddled with the buttons on mac’s shirt. he undid one, than another, all the while swallowing over the dryness in his throat.

“okay, okay, that’s slutty enough.” mac stepped back, brushing his palms on his pants. he looked down at dennis’s handiwork, and dennis looked elsewhere as mac went ever so slightly cross-eyed to survey the damage. mac glanced up, shooting dennis a crooked grin. 

dennis returned the smile, hoping it didn’t come across as a grimace instead. “you ready for this?” he asked.

“yeah.” mac swallowed. “let’s give ‘em a show.”

the two pushed the doors open and stepped into the throng, and as they did so, dennis reached down and intertwined his fingers with mac’s. mac glanced down at the pairing briefly, their strong hands looking strangely emasculated grasping at each other. dennis just barely glimpsed a graze of mac’s scrutiny as it brushed past his eyes and out towards the crowd.

they marched onward.

“hello, all,” dennis said, taking on a tall, glamorous tone. “we are the homosexual couple that owns this bar, and we would just like to say thank you for coming out tonight -” he chucked a bit. “pun not intended, of course.”

“yes, and we are madly in love,” mac pitched in, not all that helpfully. he pressed himself closer to dennis, and dennis remembered a moment too late that he was, in fact, allowed to react. he undid their hands and went for slinking an arm around mac’s shoulder, eyeing the nonplussed crowds that hovered nearby.

“is this about the negative reviews?” some dude muttered. this lit a flame in dennis.  _ reviews, plural?  _

“so what if it is?” dennis called back loftily. “we have a reason to refute the wrongful claims that are made about our bar. we want no one to be under the impression that we are just money-hungry straight men.”

“weird, because i still believe both of those things,” called a woman’s voice from behind the bar. as murmurs of assent drifted around, dennis bit back a fiery  _ dee, you bitch! _

“fine,” dennis said, hardly thinking. “if i were straight, would i do this?” he grasped mac by the front of the shirt and pulled him into a kiss, pushing aside the fact that he vaguely felt as if he had just lit himself on fire for no reason he could name. he leaned further into the kiss, praying that mac had gotten the memo on this one. either way he was kissing dennis back, so, well, sure. okay. that was about all that dennis could muster to realize at the moment. dennis inhaled sharply through his nose so he wouldn’t have to pull away and face whatever was going on across mac’s face. he drew a hand up the back of mac’s neck, where sweat was beading, and pressed his fingers through mac’s hair, repeating each step to himself so it was nothing more than the act, nothing more than the show, although the way mac’s arm had mysteriously slinked around dennis’s waist said otherwise. not like they had exactly given themselves a script. dennis was the one who had put a hand through mac’s hair, after all. which had happened first? how long had they been doing this? a second? a minute?

_ after this, i am going to put a bullet through my head,  _ dennis decided, before he surrendered himself to the facts of the moment and pulled away. he forced himself to turn from the shell-shocked expression on mac’s face, his lips a bright red in the pub’s dim lights. the few men that had previously leered judgmentally were whistling and grinning. they looked sufficiently impressed. dee, on the other hand, was standing behind the bar, completely slack-jawed.

dennis clapped a firm hand around mac’s shoulder and steered him right out of the room, still mustering any remaining panache that might be miserably crawling through his body. “thank you everyone, again, we appreciate your service, keep being proud! c’mon, hubby,” he added, too loudly.

as soon as the office door shut, mac was yelling. “what the hell was that, dennis?” his voice shook ever so slightly.

“oh, come on, mac, grow up! it was just a fucking kiss!” this bit was partly to himself. “what was i supposed to do? they clearly weren’t buying our act, and i wasn’t about to let our business tank over something that stupid!”

“i don’t know, man.” mac shook his head slowly. “i just - a little warning would’ve been nice.”

“sure,” dennis responded, bone-dry. “next time i’ll just call out in front of the crowd, ‘hey mac, i’m going to kiss you now -’” as the words sunk in, his brazen response faltered. dennis swallowed loudly, the sound of his throat seeming to outweigh every other sound in the universe.

“you know what i mean,” dennis continued. he forced his tone to sharpen itself, cut through the tension without effort. “it wouldn’t have worked. sometimes that happens, when you make a plan. you gotta ad-lib it. we of all people should know that one.”

“yeah,” mac said softly. his anger fizzled visibly like a slow-motion film, vanishing from the eyes first, and ending with his pursed lips relaxing into neutrality. “yeah, i guess you’re right.”

the two sunk down next to each other on the floor and leaned against the wall, neither of them in the mood to argue for long. dennis allowed it. he would never admit it, but he didn’t take as much perverse pleasure as it seemed in being mad at mac. there was a part of dennis that was grateful mac was the softie, just so that he had an occasional excuse to let their disputes dissolve.

“hey, look on the bright side,” dennis said. “our plan was a success, as far as we’re concerened. the gay bar is officially back on track.”

“that is true,” mac allowed. “and you know what? everyone is none the wiser.” he shot dennis a wink, and his hand playfully smacked the side of dennis’s thigh, so casually it almost felt subconscious. the thing was, though, it stuck there, like a line spoken at the wrong time, a refrain held for too long. it shouldn’t have stayed, unmoving. someone should have protested. but somehow - neither of them did.

dennis glanced down at the hand, then back up at mac, whose face was, for once in his life, unreadable. there was a prickle of unrest in the back of dennis’s brain, quiet but persistent as the twinge of a mosquito bite. the two watched each other, unmoving, neither one adding nor subtracting to the space that lingered between them, its presence seeming more and more cruel and unusual. dennis tried to remember how to breathe as he swirled a finger in a pile of stray glitter.

the door to the office burst open loudly, and the two men started, mac’s hand flying back towards his own side. dee’s voice rang high and shrill, breaking the trance that had settled over the room. “get out here, dickwads, we’ve got a goddamn bar to tend, and unless you want our janitor to start making cosmos, i would recommend that you get your asses behind the counter!”

mac and dennis scrambled to their feet, and dennis shook his head as if to rearrange the moment’s past into nothingness. “yeah, yeah, we’re on it,” he muttered.

mac pushed forward through the doorframe before dennis, easing his way into the crowd without looking back. dennis blinked, his limbs feeling heavy and unused, before assimilating into the throng, weaving his way towards the bar. the last memory that cemented itself firmly in dennis’s brain was the cross hanging on the wall over the whole scene.  _ guess god’s fucking watching,  _ dennis thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some good old self-indulgent angst here - aka me fulfilling as many of my macden fantasies as possible until rcg stops being cowards <3 however this will have a beginning middle end etc so. never fear my friends
> 
> if you've made it this far u mean the world to me mwah :))


	2. dennis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> highly recommend listening to mistake by middle kids as you read this chapter - a lot of their songs give me macden vibes (not to mention they're just great all around) but mistake in particular really gels with this scene <3 anyway! this is a shorter one, kind of just a singular scene, but it seemed to deserve its own chapter, so here we are. hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it :)

by the time mac and dennis finally closed up shop, it was pouring rain outside.

“fucking great,” dennis said, making a run for the car. mac was at his heels. the two slid into opposite ends of the car upon instinct; dennis driving and mac in the passenger seat. dennis glanced over at mac, shivering and soaked, and bit back a complaint about driving in the rain. instead he started the engine, praying for heat.

it sputtered. and sputtered again.

“you’ve gotta be shitting me.” dennis punched the steering wheel, and started as it elicited a loud honk. “today of all the goddamn days.”

mac spared a glance over at dennis, breaking his strangely pensive gaze out the window. “car won’t start?”

“yeah, mac.” dennis’s tone was dry. “in case you didn’t notice. the car won’t start.”

“sorry, man. i just really didn’t. notice, i mean.”

“god, it was just a comment! why does everything i do make or break your emotional stability?” this made mac look even more hurt, which, inexplicably, made dennis even angrier. “i can’t deal with your stupid puppy-dog eyes tonight, mac. i’m gonna call dee. see if she can pick us up.”

“okay. fine. call her.” mac’s voice wasn’t even defiant; it had shrunk, sized itself down to fit below dennis’s overbearing demeanor. dennis didn’t have the time to properly abhor how this made him feel, though, because dee picked up, shockingly, on the first ring.

“i literally just said good-bye to you five minutes ago,” she said, by way of friendly introduction. “you know, i shouldn’t even be answering the phone while driving.”

“please, like you don’t do it all the time.”

“you might want to be nicer to me if you’re gonna need something.”

“well, as a matter of fact, i do,” dennis said. he glanced at mac. “we do. our car isn’t starting - the battery’s probably dead, or some shit - and i’m not about to stand outside in the pouring rain and tinker around uselessly. i need you to pick us up.”

“oh, you need me, don’t you? that’s new.”

“dee, i swear to god -”

“look, dennis, i really don’t feel like turning around at this point. i’m a couple minutes from home. call triple A or something, ask their guys to come fix it.”

“so, you could turn around, but you just don’t feel like it.”

“could, schmoud, would, whatever. i’m about to get home and get comfortable. so, sure. yeah. i don’t feel like it. if you don’t want to call the pros, just call charlie.”

“he left early, remember? i’m sure he’s already eating cat food and drinking himself to sleep.”

“yeah, you’re right. sorry, i guess i can’t help you. you’ll find a way.”

the line clicked off. dennis swore into the empty receiver.

“no luck?” mac asked.

“evidently.”

“so… what now?”

dennis made the mistake of glancing over at mac, whose eyes were liquid in the dim daylight of the storm. “we call triple A, i guess.”

unfortunately, as the line informed him, they would be arriving in sixty or so minutes. delays due to weather and all that. dennis mentally reminded himself to leave a bad review once he got back home to his computer.

oh, home. warm and easy. plenty of room to distance himself from mac. he missed it already.

“well,” mac said awkwardly, “wanna do something to pass the time?”

“not particularly.”

“um. okay. guess i’ll just sit here then.” mac leaned back into his seat and twiddled his thumbs. 

after a moment of silence, he cracked. “it’s pretty cold in here, huh, den?”

“uh-huh.”

“reminds me of that time we were stuck in the snow up in bradford. i swear, i thought we were gonna get hypothermia and die. you know, i heard that when you start to die of the cold, you actually feel all warm and comfortable. that’s kinda nice, isn’t it? like, you get to go in peace. i wonder if we’ll start feeling warm soon…”

dennis rubbed his temples as mac prattled on. he was about to beg the guy to shut up when mac somehow managed to segway into the worst topic imaginable, stopping all of dennis’s cynicism in its tracks.

“by the way,” mac was saying, “dude, are we ever gonna talk about… uh, you kissing me? back in the bar?”

“yeah, i know where i kissed you,” dennis said coldly, then quickly regretted conjuring the image.

“oh.” mac pressed his lips together. “so, that’s a no then, or…”

“sure. it’s a no.”

“okay. i just - well. i think it could be weird to, like, just go back to normal and not acknowledge that we kinda kissed.”

“i don’t think it’ll be weird,” dennis said, trying his best to remain monotone, and vaguely failing. “it’d only be weird if we felt something. and i didn’t feel anything. did you?”

mac glanced out the window. “nope. nothing.”

“great then,” dennis said to the back of his head.

“great,” mac said to the window.

“great.”

“you already said that, you know.” mac’s eyes didn’t move as he addressed dennis.

“so? i’ll say it again.”

“well, you already did, so.”

dennis was too exhausted and uncomfortable to fight back, though he could feel mac’s eyes flickering to him in the empty silence where a scathing retort would have been. he leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes, but his mind refused to drift off.

the minutes ticked by like hours. the air inside the car felt as if it could combust at any moment. it would almost be nice, dennis thought. no more getting stuck in the rain. no more bitchy dee. and no more of - god, whatever was going on with mac at this point. dennis’s only comfort was the steady drum of the rain on the windows, blanketing the awkward silence in a thick wash of white noise.

“i can just walk home,” mac said, after a long stretch of nothingness.

“wh - why do you say that?”

“dude, you seem, like, really uncomfortable right now. if you’re weirded out by my presence, i get it. okay? i don’t want you to freak. it’s, like, a twenty-minute walk. i’ll be fine.”

“you’ll get sick. you’ll be soaked to the bone. you don’t have to do that for me.” dennis didn’t understand mac sometimes. sure, dennis had his attachments to mac, but sometimes it seemed as though mac’s entire world revolved around dennis.  _ dennis-centrism _ . the man would make a million sacrifices in his best friend’s name. it was off-putting at best.

“seriously. i don’t mind.”

“yeah - you  _ should,  _ though, mac, that’s the goddamn problem. don’t you care about yourself? don’t you care about anything other than me?”

mac had no response for this, but still dennis looked away as mac’s eyes widened, and then softened, just enough to cleave dennis’s chest in two.

“so,” mac said, after a moment stiff enough to get its own handjob, “it actually is, like. really cold.”

dennis had to agree, unfortunately. he nodded weakly, hoping that would be enough for mac.

“don’t suppose you have any blankets… extra jackets… anything in the back?” mac asked.

“maybe in the trunk, but…” dennis trailed off, taking in mac’s visible shivers. he grunted. “you are so fucking lucky i’m nice.”

“oh, yeah,” mac griped as dennis opened the door and stepped into the rain. “you are the absolute  _ nicest,  _ dude. i don’t know where i’d be without you.”

“do you want to get the blanket, asshole?” dennis said, raising his voice to be heard through the closed door. he stalked around to the back of the car, popped open the trunk, and unearthed an old beach blanket, sand still lingering in its crevices. dennis sighed in resignation, shook the excess sand into the rain-soaked street below, and walked around to his side of the car. he held up the tattered throw, displaying the result of his sacrificial efforts. 

“okay, well done,” mac said, leaning over his side of the car to roll down dennis’s window. it might as well have been a full-on slow clap. rain was spattering all over mac’s face. “you can get in the car now, you know.”

but dennis was beginning to cherish the distance put between himself and mac. he could feel his makeup running, and the water was falling down the back of his neck, but also, the physical breadth was a goddamn saving grace.

“are you serious, dude?” mac rolled up the window a hair as the rain intensified. he shouted over the noise of the raging storm and through the small opening in between their worlds. “are you really gonna be this stubborn right now? in the middle of a rainstorm?”

“i’m not - being stubborn,” dennis said. he folded his arms. “i just need a little room.”

“i fucking  _ knew  _ you weren’t over that kiss!” mac said. “this is about that, isn’t it? you’re really gonna stand out in the rain and sulk because we kissed  _ once.  _ for  _ show. _ ”

“i never said it was about that!” dennis shouted. rain splattered across his lips and into his mouth. “it meant nothing! it was for publicity! i am a straight man! i’m completely over it!”

“then sit next to me in the goddamn car like a normal human being! or at least give me my blanket!”

“you think i’m not cold too? i’m the one fucking standing out in the cold because i wanted to get  _ you _ a blanket!”

“well, you are making the process a lot longer because of some stupid reason that i don’t even get! i never get you, dude! you just do whatever the fuck you want, dude, don’t you?”

“ _ this blanket is for you! _ ” dennis roared. “ _ is it not clear that i care about you _ ?”

“you just got mad at me for caring about you! so what, you’re allowed to do nice things for me, but god forbid i do them for you, right? god forbid this relationship be two-sided! you are hopeless, dude, you’re hopeless!”

dennis, too exhausted to argue, tuned out mac’s shouts and instead opted to step further out into the street. he let the rain pour over his body, washing away the night’s trials and tribulations. for one fleeting moment, all was serene. 

of course, until a truck roared through the street, just missing dennis by inches as his eyes flew open. the feeling was like that of a bullet whizzing past his ear.

“dennis!” mac shouted over the blur of noises occurring at once.

“i’m fine,” dennis said, his voice practically a growl. his clean clothes were drenched in dirty rainwater, and the blanket, of course, was no more salvageable. dennis clamored into the car, slinging the wet blanket into the backseat.

“oh. great,” mac said. “so now we don’t have a blanket, either. because you just needed some me time in the middle of a fucking rainstorm.”

“oh, get over yourself,” dennis said. it was unclear who was going to pick up the next thread in the argument, but surely someone would have within seconds, had the truck that nearly bowled dennis over not been triple-A arriving for help.

“thank fucking christ,” dennis muttered. the truck parked behind their car, and shortly after, a man poked his head in through dennis’s window. after a few forced smiles and discussions about payment, dennis sat back and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the handyman tinkering with his hood, underscored by the drumming of the rain on the tarp that had been draped over his workspace.

when he opened his eyes, mac was watching him.

“what?” dennis snapped finally.

“nothing. well. just - thanks for going out in the rain to get that blanket for me. and, uh, not making me walk home. just. y’know. you’re not as shitty as you want to be, i think. so. thanks.”

this was a difficult compliment to interpret - if it was indeed a compliment. it was also hard to focus much on anything, because dennis was cold as all hell, and all we wanted was for the car to be repaired so that the heat could stop his bones from freezing over.

“uh-huh. no problem, man,” dennis returned weakly.

miracle of all miracles, the drive home was a peaceful one. dennis cranked the heat up to the max, and both mac and himself were so focused on enjoying the newfound warmth that they seemed to stop caring about much else. the rest of dennis’s attention went to driving in the rain, until, after a blissfully short drive, he parked outside their apartment. the two men stumbled out of the car and up the steps of their building quickly, nearly tumbling over each other in their eagerness to get out of the downpour. the door slammed shut, the lights flicked on. all was forgotten in the moment of pure relief. and there was mac. mac, the common denominator. mac, leaning against the wall, breathless and grinning.

_ home sweet home. _


	3. mac

mac awoke in the dead of night to a flickering lamp.

at least, he would have to assume it was the dead of night. two? three? or had he only been asleep for minutes? his beside clock had shut off, along with the rest of the lights. only the lamp in the corner of his room let out a few more resilient sputters of light before succumbing to the outage.

mac had never liked the dark much. it sat in the room like a blinding, suffocating fog, enveloping everything, and he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being buried alive.

“den?” mac called, trying not to sound too emasculated.

a few moments passed.

“dennis?” 

no response.

mac shrugged off his sheets and made his way cautiously through the darkened apartment; first out of his room and then en route to his roommate's.

“hey man, you up?” mac said, voice a half-whisper. he peered through the doorframe of dennis’s room, where he had fallen asleep with the door ajar. 

dennis blinked groggily. “i am now,” he murmured.

“the power went out,” mac said. “and, uh. i just got a little. well -”

“scared?” dennis prompted. the words were cutting.

“no,” mac said, almost physically recoiling from the concept. “nope. no. nothing like that.”

“really.”

“ _ okay. _ yes. i just don’t like the dark. and i was wondering - if i could sleep in your bed tonight? you know, like old times.”

“mac, i’m sure the power will go back on soon. please don’t do this to me. you’re a grown man. just sleep in your own bed.”

mac fidgeted with his hands. “i’m just really not good with this kind of stuff, dude, and, well, i just want to know you’re there, is all.”

he looked up to dennis, eyes pleading, and watched as something shifted in his friend’s face, almost infinitesimal enough to go completely unnoticed.

“okay. fine. c’mere.” dennis patted the empty side of the bed.

the storm continued to rage noisily outside as mac made his way over to the mattress and slid under the comforter. it was a measly arrangement, he thought, personally, just a thin sheet and a comforter, and what with the heat shut off amidst the outages, it was actually very cold in the room.

“were you seriously just sleeping like this?” mac said.

“uh, yes, mac, i was, until you awoke me. i wouldn’t have noticed how fucking freezing it was if you’d let me sleep through the night like a normal roommate.”

“okay. i’m sorry.” mac couldn’t see dennis’s face, as he’d rolled over, but the lack of a retort was reassuring. “but since we can’t change that now, can i just - get closer to you?”

“what?” dennis sounded personally affronted.

“for body heat, dude. science and stuff.”

“i thought you didn’t believe in that shit.”

“let’s just say i’m a circumstantial believer.”

“and in this particular circumstance…”

“it is way too freezing for me to fall asleep. you gotta help me out.”

“fine, asshole. you be the big spoon.”

mac pushed himself closer to dennis, and draped an arm over his roommate’s waist. he could feel dennis stiffen at the touch, and it crossed mac’s mind briefly that dennis had possibly never been held like this before - or at least, not in a very long time. when it came to dennis’s relationships, mac knew the ins and outs almost as well as the man himself. dennis screwed the chick, screwed the chick over, and then fled. if she didn’t beat him to it, that was. there weren’t exactly a lot of long cuddling sessions involved.

not like they were cuddling. this was purely a fact-based endeavour. and actually, it  _ was _ working. mac could feel the warmth of dennis’s body spreading through his own, and the heat of tiredness did the rest of the work as his eyelids fluttered shut. slowly, dennis relaxed under mac’s arm, and mac relaxed into the gentle but not nonexistent curvature of dennis’s curled-up body. 

after a few minutes of half-sleep, with one foot in the world of unconsciousness, mac drifted a hand upwards, past dennis’s shoulders, and stroked dennis’s hair. a small, rebellious curl had manifested in the rain, remaining in its shape just at the nape of dennis’s neck. absentmindedly, mac pushed it aside, feeling the warmth of dennis’s bare skin under his thumb for the most fleeting of moments. 

dennis shifted, and mac froze.

“den?” he dared to ask, his voice not even a whisper.

no response, just a small, sleep-laden grunt. this time, the feeling flooding mac was one of relief.

here’s what mac could say about dennis: he liked the guy. he just - he really, really liked the guy. 

nothing sinful about it.

with the morning came more rain.

as mac slowly returned to consciousness, he stirred and instinctively stretched out an arm where dennis’s form would have been. a delayed dismay coursed through mac’s body upon realizing there was no one beside him. this was followed by some form of relief that dennis hadn’t been around to witness whatever instinct had just taken over his half-asleep body.

mac roused himself - against his body’s wishes - and padded into the kitchen. dennis was leaning against the counter with a glass of water, popping an aspirin into his mouth.

“hey, den,” mac said. “hangover?”

“something like that.”

mac gazed out at the rain beating against the window. “ah. yeah. i gotcha.”

the sound of the heating system, loud and outdated, began to pulse through the apartment, saving the two from their strange bout of silence.

“power’s back on,” mac mused, rather pointlessly.

“guess that means you can sleep in your own bed tonight,” dennis said.

“yeah, man. ‘course.”

the relief of the heating system was short-lived. the weight of their silence was enough to blanket the sound of a rocket launch.

and then the phone rang.

mac picked it up. “hello?”

“hey, man.”

“charlie! what’s up?”

“i have…. something i need you to see.”

“uh… okay.” he glanced at dennis. “should i come alone, or…”

“dude, it’s not a drug deal. bring dennis if you want. you might not want to, though.”

“are you gonna explain why?”

“not until you get here.”

“okay. well, i’ll head to your apartment, then? soon?”  
“yeah, yeah, head on over quick.”

“okay. bye.” mac hung up.

dennis glanced over curiously. “and who might that have been?”

“just charlie. he wants to show me something. said it was sorta, like, just a me thing.”

“okay.” dennis pursed his lips nonchalantly, even if mac knew him better than to believe the expression. “sure. just don’t miss the saturday night rush. i can’t be alone out there.”

“like you don’t love the attention,” mac said, grinning. dennis balked at the offhanded joke, and mac threw up his hands. “come on, man, you’re vain as shit! don’t get all offended. i’ll see ya, okay?” mac retreated into his room, threw himself together, and was out the door within minutes.

apparently, what charlie wanted mac to see was a diary.

“and whose might that be, exactly?” mac asked.

“dude, it’s  _ yours. _ i was going through that box of old shit from high school, remember? we made, like, a time capsule or something, buried it in the park?”

“you  _ dug that up? _ ” suddenly, the dirt coating charlie’s hands and legs made more sense. mac had let it slide at first, because, well, sometimes the guy was just like that.

“yeah! i thought it was for us to read later, y’know, like, to remember what we were like as kids?”

“no, you idiot, that was for people after the apocalypse! or, like, i dunno, aliens!” 

“oh, right, because after hell ravages the earth, there’s nothing people are gonna want more than a diary, some glue, and a failed book report.”

“oh, come on, it was about the sentiment!”

“well, there are some sentiments in here alright,” charlie said, sounding ominous.

and, suddenly, mac recognized the diary. “oh my god,” he said, “charlie, you did not read that.”

“i tried, but i think it might be in spanish or something, didn't you study that for a couple years -”

“give it to me right now,” mac said, and before he knew what he was doing, he was tackling charlie to obtain the leather-bound notebook from his dirt-riddled clutches.

“woah, woah, woah!” frank stumbled out of the bathroom, trailing an unpleasant stench. “i take a dump for two minutes and you two start MMA up in here?” he glanced over at mac, who had managed to snatch the diary from charlie, and was waving it in the air like a war spoil. “oh, shit, is that mac’s gay-ass little high school diary?” frank grinned wickedly.

“what,” mac said,  _ “the hell?!” _

charlie stepped back, clearly resigning, as mac opened the journal furiously. across the inside cover was, undoubtedly, mac’s messy sophomore year scrawl:  _ property of ronald mcdonald. _ as he rifled through, words jumped out at mac at random, threatening to unwind him.

_ cool kids had a party uptown last night. dennis reynolds bought weed from me again. not to take the lord’s name in vain, but God, he’s so cool. i don’t get how every girl in school isn’t all over him. i think he scares them away somehow. i’ve heard he’s a bit off the rails sometimes. he doesn’t scare me, though.  _

mac tossed the diary away from himself like a cursed object before he could read any more.

“i can’t fucking believe you dredged that up,” mac said. “and let  _ frank  _ read it? i can’t believe you, man, i can’t.”

“dude,” charlie said, “that shit was only debatably in english, so i don’t know what the fuck you were on about. besides, i - _we_ -" he glanced at frank, who simply grunted. "really don’t care what kind of shit you’re into now, or what you were into then, or whatever. i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry.”

the behavior - something adjacent to self-aware kindness - gave pause to mac’s anger.

“okay,” he said, heaving out a sigh. “but i’m not gay. and i’m definitely not into dennis. never was. not like that.”

“alright, man,” charlie said. “whatever works for you.” he glanced at frank, who jerked his chin upwards in questionable assent.

mac, ignoring these sentiments, plowed on. “just - please put that thing back in the ground.”

“i’ll do you one better. i’ll bring it to the bar today, toss it in the dumpster, burn it with the rest of the trash.”

“alright. fine.” mac threw up his hands. “whatever will take it the furthest away from me.”

much to mac's relief, his company seemed to be quickly moving on.

"hey," charlie said, grinning as he addressed the room at large. "wanna see if this glue still does anything?" he dangled a plastic bag in the air eagerly, watching as frank's eyes followed the thing like a dog watching a treat.

mac scoffed. “you’re insane.” but he returned the mischievous smile.

dennis and dee were already handling the early evening crowd when mac and charlie came to their senses enough to stumble into the bar. frank, who was probably past the ideal age to be huffing chemicals, had passed out across the bed in his and charlie’s clutter-strewn apartment. each twin rolled their eyes as the two boys headed in but made no further remarks, verbal or otherwise.

“the rainbows are still up,” mac noted, not nonchalantly.

“yeah, man,” charlie said, just so mac could hear. “good for business. you gonna be alright?”

“uh-huh.” mac looked anywhere but at dennis. he made a mental note of the diary tucked under charlie’s arm. “i really hope i never see that shit again.”

charlie caught his drift. “don’t worry, you won’t.”

the rush spread happily through the bar within the hour. as the night progressed, mac tended to their patrons with caution, unable to fully forget what dennis had said the other night. 

“ _ all over _ them, my ass,” mac muttered to himself. “like he isn’t putting on a fucking show every night for a couple fucking compliments.” he handed a couple glasses to a booth full of guys, but before he could slink away quietly, a soft, strong hand latched onto his forearm.

_ shit _ . 

“can i help you?” mac turned around.

“hey, yeah,” said one of the men. he had on a form-fitting white tank top that exposed the strength of his upper arms. “i’m diego. you’re cute, you know that? i was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink some day, when you ain’t on company time.”

“shit, man, he’s seeing that other dude!” one of diego’s friends punched him in the shoulder. “heard through the grapevine he’s taken.”

meanwhile, mac was sputtering. “um, no, we’re not - i mean, i’m not seeing - because i’m not -”

“damn, did y’all break up already, or what?”

“well. no. i mean, yes. we weren’t - well. we aren’t - it’s hard to explain.” mac sputtered, a desperate attempt to worm his way out of the situation without jeopardizing the bar’s reputation again.

“sure sounds like it,” diego said. he offered a sly grin. “look, just, uh...” he pushed a slip of paper towards mac, where a phone number was scrawled in pen. “hit me up once you’ve got things sorted out. i’d love to see you again sometime.”

mac, head swimming, grabbed the paper and stalked away, mumbling a string of incoherent responses over his shoulder.

dee raised her eyebrows at mac as he approached the counter, shoving the number into his pocket faster than he’d done anything in his life.

“whaddya got there?” she said.

“nothing.”

“okay, i’m not gonna bug you about this because we’re busy as hell, but just know, my curiosity is not gonna go away.”

“fan-fucking-tastic.”

“do you need any drinks for that booth?”

“hm? oh, no, they just got some, we were just, uh, chatting a bit.”

“chatting. sure.” dee rolled her eyes, and mac flushed. “now stop flirting and go deal with someone who actually needs your service.”

“i wasn’t - man, screw you! i need some air.”

mac stumbled his way through the crowds, ignoring the eyes flicking in his direction, and pushed open the door to the back entrance. he slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, eyes closed, chest heaving. when mac opened his eyes, he started at the male form leaning against the dumpster. “shit!”

“did i surprise you?” dennis asked through the darkness.

“um, yeah, dude. what the hell are you doing rummaging through our trash?” panic was beginning to rush through mac.

“well, that’s the thing, i was just heading out here to take out some trash, since we were overflowing in there. so i went to toss the bag over, and i found this.” he exposed his spare hand, which, lo and behold, had been holding mac’s diary the entire goddamn time. as dennis revealed the diary, he seemed to take in the fear flooding mac’s face, and mac could almost swear sympathy glanced across dennis’s otherwise emotionless expression.

“oh my god.” mac didn’t know what else to say. “oh my god. how much did you - oh my god. i can’t even ask.”

“mac,” dennis said, “i want you to know it’s okay if you’re -”

“no,” mac said, “i’m not, and don’t even say it, and you shouldn’t even be talking about this, because i wrote about  _ you, _ and oh my god, i -”

“wait, wait, wait.” dennis held up a hand, and mac’s entire world stopped. “you wrote about  _ me? _ ”

mac couldn’t find words. “i mean. no. yes. maybe. a little. i’m not sure. did i, uh, write about you? million dollar question, huh? i mean, to answer it, i would say, i really don’t know -”

dennis cut him off with another raised hand. it was strange how effective that was. “i didn’t even know you wrote about  _ me, _ ” he said. “i just read what you wrote about those WWE wrestlers.”

mac’s entire body flooded with heat. “oh, my god, no.”

dennis was either oblivious to mac’s torture or had reached a new psychopathic peak, because he was actually fucking  _ grinning _ now, twinkle of mischief in his eye and all. “dude. you need to relax. i want to know what you wrote about me,” he said, and he clutched the diary to his chest. “c’mon man, i know it’s nothing bad. i just wanna know how cool you thought i was. wanna know if i was a good customer.”

it was at that moment that mac’s fate became terribly sealed by none other than The Bird herself.

“mac! dennis!” she screeched as she swung open the door. “whatever you two idiots are 

squawking about out here, it needs to be saved for later, because i cannot keep this bar running by myself! jesus!”

mac sputtered, and dee took the opportunity to grab him by the arm. dennis leaned casually against the dumpster, out of the reach of dee’s wrath, but she glowered at him nonetheless as she yanked mac inside and slammed the door shut again.

“oh, no. you gotta let me back out there, dee.”

“is he dying? actually, that wouldn’t matter. i don’t know what to tell you, but you gotta work. get your ass in that crowd.”

mac worked the rest of the night through a white fog, unable to think about anything but his  _ gay-ass little high school  _ diary. dee, true to her nature, watched mac like a hawk, not even giving him a breath of a moment to slip out back and observe just how dead he was.

“charlie!” mac hissed, as he filled a tray of sodas. “i can’t believe you let that diary get into dennis’s hands!”

“dennis found it?” charlie asked, genuinely dumbfounded. “i swear, i threw it out, i was gonna burn it, it’s not my fault he went all fuckin’ inspector gadget on our dumpster -”

“god, you should have, just, like, torn it to pieces with your bare hands or some shit.”

“i’m not a MMA fighter, dude.”

“whatever,” mac huffed. “just - god. whatever.”

“i’m sorry,” charlie said, and the honesty in his voice gave mac pause. “i hope shit’s okay between you two.”

“i guess we’ll see,” mac huffed, turning back to the night’s work.

there were no nights quite like saturday nights since the bar had changed. a good half hour past closing, the gang had to shoo out a few stragglers still nursing drinks.

“sure hope we’re not responsible for those people’s safety,” dee muttered. “i wouldn’t be surprised if blue sweater over there passed out in the street.”

“nah,” mac said halfheartedly, but his mind was elsewhere. he could feel dennis’s eyes, even if they weren’t on him. truth be told, it seemed the guy was looking everywhere but at mac, which just made things all the more uncomfortable. 

“well,” charlie said, through a loud yawn, “imma head home. let’s hope frank hasn’t locked me out to bang some chicks again.”

“uh-huh,” dee said, nonplussed. she gave a classic eye roll and tossed the key ring in dennis’s direction, who, miraculously, caught it in two outstretched palms. “how about you two lock up tonight? i’m tired.”

“dude, you totally owe us one for leaving us in the rain for a goddamn hour last night,” mac said.

“please. you were in a car. and it’s literally just sticking some keys in a keyhole, so, uh, how about you bitches relax. i’m gonna go crash, so.”

mac opened his mouth in protest, but it was useless. dee and charlie were already waltzing out the door, leaving dennis and mac alone, standing at opposite ends of the room, refusing to speak to one another.

“you know,” dennis started to say at last, but mac cut him off.

“nope,” mac said. “no. that’s okay. i don’t need to know what you thought. i really just don’t - i don’t need to hear any of it.”

“mac,” dennis said softly, “i didn’t read it. any more than i had before you found me, i mean.”

mac blanched. “so you didn’t read -”

“i didn’t. none of - you know. any of  _ that. _ there’s no point. the past is the past. and our current friendship - that’s what matters to me.”

“our friendship matters to you?” mac echoed, despite himself. his heart twinged.

dennis smiled, a familiar little half-there thing. “yeah, man. sure it does.”

“okay, this is  _ great _ .” as if they were nothing at all, mac’s worries began to vanish, and he and dennis fell into step as they made their exit. “because i was hoping we could watch a movie again tomorrow night, but i wasn’t sure if you were up for predator, or if you wanted to change it up - i mean, predator would be great for me, obviously not because of the beefcakes, or whatever, because, you know, i’m not gay -”

dennis shook his head, the ghost of a smile dancing against his high cheekbones as he locked the door. “yeah, mac. i know. you’re not gay.”


	4. dennis

okay, so he read the diary.

but what was the point of revealing that to mac? it was pointless, would do nothing but drive the men further apart, freak mac out more. and sure, mac could be a pain in the ass, but there was some intrinsic force that kept dennis rooted in place, relentlessly, every time he even tried to think about moving on. whether dennis named it or not, it was there. and it didn’t want him to screw things up with mac mcdonald.

so he didn’t.

the diary, on the other hand, had been read, and that was something that could not be undone. high school mac’s words sat with dennis, rotating over and over again within his head, keeping him up all through the night. the thought of it all spun like a washing machine; rinsing and repeating, always circling back to the forefront of his mind, every time he began to think about something else.

so, alright. mac thought dennis was cool. he thought he was more than cool. but that was high school, and everything was different in high school. that was over a decade ago. people changed. no reason to let it mean anything. 

when dennis finally fell asleep that morning, the sun was already creeping through his curtains. he dreamt he was running towards the edge of a cliff, endlessly, never quite reaching his destination, the earth tearing at his bare feet over and over again. when he looked up, an unidentifiable human figure stood at the edge of the crumbling outcrop, gazing unmoving at the churning waves below. it never turned once to acknowledge his plight. by the time dennis crashed into the body, desperately, hungrily, the weight of his exhaustion taking them both into the water below, it had become his bedsheet, twisted between two sweating palms.

“you okay, dude?” mac’s voice made dennis start, and he sat up promptly. “it’s almost three in the afternoon. i figured i’d let you sleep, but even that seemed a bit, i dunno… fitful.”

“fitful? what? how?” the last thing he wanted was mac staring him down in his most vulnerable state. for all he knew, he had murmured some telltale word in his sleep.  _ not _ like there was anything to tell.

“um, i don’t know, you were just like. thrashing and stuff.”

“okay. great. thrashing. perfect development.”

mac didn’t seem to know how to respond to this, and he fiddled with his hands silently.

a clap of thunder broke the silence, making the two men jump.

dennis massaged his temples. “still fucking raining, huh?”

“yeah. we should probably get to the bar before the storm gets too bad.”

“ugh, do we have to? it’s a sunday. i’m sure dee can handle things.”

“c’mon, man. you should get out of bed. get up and running.”

dennis watched his roommate’s face, mac’s eyes softening, his mouth slightly parted. the man was the spitting image of concern. dennis was transported back to high school, suddenly, looking upon the naiveté so openly present on mac’s face. for one fleeting moment, he saw the kid who fawned over dennis, who made a note in his diary just about every time he made a sale to the guy. something ached suddenly within dennis, so fundamentally and so deep within his body that he could almost dismiss it as a part of the everyday monsoon that raged in the pit of his stomach. and yet, this ache banged at the walls of his body, prickled at his skin in a way that the regular turmoil had never done. had dennis not known better, he would almost say it was a hunger. the very thought was so foreign and uninviting that it catapulted dennis right back into the harsh reality of the moment, white spots of exhaustion swimming before his eyes.

“okay? yeah?” mac was still watching dennis, pupils flicking across his face carefully. he cracked a grin. “you really are tired, huh. you’re starting to zone out on me. we better get you some coffee.”

mac lent out an arm to dennis to help him up, but dennis warded it off with a wave of the hand, which he quickly regretted. he managed, though, and tredded tiredly into the kitchen behind mac, leaning against the counter as mac unearthed and filled two enormous ceramic mugs.

“alright.” mac pushed a mug across the countertop to dennis with a soft smile. “this should do the trick.”

miraculously, it sort of did. coffee was just wonderful like that. 

“so,” mac said, after the two had each meditated silently over the first few sips, “heard charlie’s got some plan cooking to get the waitress back on his side after that whole incident with, uh - you know…”

“the eggs and the sexism.”

“yeah. the eggs. and sexism. uh-huh.”

“i take it he needs our help?” dennis asked.

“well, actually, ‘cause he’s tied up doing whatever, dee actually needs our help at the bar, um, fixing some leak in the roof or something. water’s getting everywhere.”

“what, like she can’t do it herself? all of a sudden now that she has to hold a hammer it’s puny woman this and soft girl that? bet you tomorrow she’ll be all up in our faces with all that feminism crap.”

“maybe,” mac admitted. “but we do have more strength than her. i mean, just, like, logistically.”

dennis considered this. “true. i guess we’ll see what we can do, right?”

“right.”

dennis drove silently through the rain, mac’s music pulsing quietly on the stereo. it wasn’t the most unusual thing, them driving in silence, but today, dennis’s thoughts filled the space where a comfortable lull would have been. he wasn’t sure if mac felt it, but at least on his end, the very thought of the diary was filling up the entire car.  _ thank god paddy’s is only a few minutes away,  _ dennis thought. he also thought:  _ mac  _ liked  _ me.  _ and:  _ does he still like me? i’ve certainly only gotten better with age.  _

and:  _ not like it would matter. not to me. _

thankfully, mac was oblivious, or at least he played the part well. 

“alright man, let’s get this over with,” mac said as they slid out of the car.

the bar was empty when they arrived, with a note scotch-taped to the inside of the door.

“the hell?” dennis remarked as he plucked the paper off the wall. “‘out for coffee’?” we could’ve gotten robbed.” 

“typical dee,” mac said, though his heart didn’t sound in it, and dennis got the sense it was more to appease him than anything.

whatever. he went along with it. “typical dee.”

the two set to work on the leak, which wasn’t difficult to find. in the back corner of the bar, a steady stream of rainwater dripped into an industrial plastic bucket. mac unearthed a ladder from the back room and set it down carefully, just beside a spot directly underneath the dripping ceiling. he stepped back and pulled out his phone.

“uh, what do you think you’re doing?” dennis asked.

“relax, i’m googling how to fix a ceiling leak, dude. i don’t know how to do this shit off the top of my head.” he tapped away. “okay. looks like we need… roofing tar? or like… cement?”

“cement. sounds awesome. totally the kind of thing we have just lying around.”

“hey, don’t underestimate the inventory required for charlie work. i’m sure we can find something around here that’ll patch up a hole or two.”

the lights flickered.

“assuming we’re not working in the pitch dark,” mac amended. “i’ll grab a flashlight while i’m looking for… y’know. the ceiling glue.”

“sounds like we’re off to a great start,” dennis said.

dennis shifted back and forth on his feet, feeling like a useless ass as mac spun on his heels and hunted for supplies. he closed his eyes and drew in a breath, hearing the distant sound of mac’s clamouring and clattering in the other room. over everything, the rain drummed on the walls, 

metronome-like and unfeeling, the lifeless backing track to dennis’s life, a life which was getting more and more foreign by the day.

mac emerged, a streak of dirt smudged almost artfully across his temple. he was holding a flashlight in one hand and carefully balancing some sort of spatula-like tool atop a large can in the other.

“got the supplies,” mac said. “let’s do this.”

and then the lights went out.

“god fucking damn it,” dennis said.

“tactful.” mac flicked on the flashlight, circled it around, illuminating everything once. it  _ clicked _ loudly in the damp darkness.

“let’s just - i mean - do we still have to -” dennis chewed on his lip.

“yeah, let’s just go for it, man.” water dripped steadily into the bucket; it was reaching the three-quarter mark. “doesn’t look like we have all day.”

mac climbed onto one side of the ladder, and dennis climbed up the other, using his sense of touch where sight failed him. dennis wasn’t quite aware of the situation this would create until mac shone the flashlight under his chin at the top like a child telling a ghost story, and dennis’s throat went dry at the remarkable lack of distance between their faces.

“oh. sorry,” mac said. the words were clumsy, leaden. whatever had overcome dennis, it seemed he wasn’t alone. mac flicked off the flashlight, and then the two of them were standing in the dark, which was somehow worse. dennis swore he could feel mac’s breath on his face; warm and still tinged with mint. dennis swallowed. blinked.  _ recalibrate, reynolds. _

“what’d you do that for,” dennis said hoarsely. 

“just. uh. it was weird. i guess.”

“no shit. but we need light to work, so. c’mon.”

“um… okay.” mac flicked on the light, aiming it more helpfully this time. he shot the beam up at the ceiling, revealing a gaping hole in the plaster. “so, basically, i’ll hold this thing of tar, and you take the brush and get it up in that spot there.”

“why am i the one who has to stick the brush in there? it’s all gross and wet. you’re the one who knows what we’re doing.”

“fine, man, i’ll do it. i don’t care.”

there was an awkward moment where the two fumbled to swap tools; mac passed the can, and dennis passed the flashlight, and their hands fumbled carelessly over each other’s in the process. the fleeting moment of darkness as mac had to set down the flashlight made it worse. despite the casualness of it all, dennis was sharply aware of every time his skin brushed mac’s, especially in the darkness, with his senses heightened. his head was spinning. what was getting into him?

“you alright, dude?” mac looked up at him through his dark eyelashes, shining the flashlight between the two of them so he was just barely illuminated. even in the careful sympathy, there was something more fragile hiding in the corners of mac’s voice. also, there was a white, almost majestic glow to the flashlight emanating from his hands, and it shadowed mac’s striking jawline like moonlight on a cloudless night.

jesus.

“yes. i’m very fine. i just. need a moment.” dennis contemplated clamouring down the ladder and running home in the rain, but then he recalled that he was actually doing something important here, and he had tools in his hand, and this was going to be a successful collaborative effort, intrusive  _ feelings  _ be damned. the word almost made him shudder. dennis took a breath, and then he held out the can.

mac took a large glob of dark goop on his brush, and began to sweep it across the ceiling like a painter. to no one’s surprise, at least not dennis’s, the substance promptly fell from the ceiling and landed in the bucket below.

“well,” mac said. “back to google it is.”

he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, typed in a few key search words, and then set the device carefully on the top rung of the ladder. dennis leaned forward to read upside-down, just in case mac needed backup, and then mac leaned forward to read the small print, and then suddenly their foreheads were pressing together over the phone.

for one very long moment, possibly a singular second, neither mac nor dennis moved. the air felt impossibly charged. dennis could  _ definitely  _ feel mac’s breaths this time. and he was almost certain they were laboured.

dennis pulled sharply away, refusing to meet mac’s eyes.

“um.” dennis could hear mac’s swallow in between words; he watched the bob of his adam’s apple in the dim blue light of the phone screen. “sorry.”

dennis couldn’t breathe. he put a hand on the ladder’s top rung to steady himself. “seriously, it’s whatever, mac. just stop - jesus, can you stop apologizing for everything?” he moved his hand for emphasis, promptly knocking mac’s phone off the ladder and into the bucket of water.

“shit, dude, come on!” 

“okay. i didn’t mean to do that. that wasn’t a part of my - scolding.”

“ _ scolding?  _ i’m not five, i don’t need to be reprimanded!”

“that’s not what i meant, mac, i just needed a quick word for it -”

“whatever,” mac huffed, climbing down the ladder. “maybe you should be apologizing for once, you know, ‘cause you just fucked up my phone, and we needed that,  _ i  _ needed that -”

“i know you need your goddamn phone, mac! okay? i’m sorry! i’m sorry.” dennis followed mac down the ladder and put his head in his hands. 

“thank you.” mac spoke quietly. mac had the only source of the light in the bar, save for the small squares of light filtering in from the windows at the opposite end, and the power gave him the eerie quality of a god. _ that was supposed to be my role,  _ dennis thought.  _ i  _ was supposed to be the one with all the control. and yet dennis was feeling less and less like he had any at all.

“so,” dennis said, “what now?”

“i dunno, we wait for charlie to fix the leak? call him on your phone? we can’t exactly do it on mine.”

“yeah, i got that,” dennis snapped, but the words felt too harsh, even for him. “i mean. i’ll just - i’ll call charlie.”

“okay.” the word was quiet, tentative. 

charlie was, of course, off doing god knows what, but at least he answered on the second ring. the guy knew his loyalties. mostly.

“hey charlie, we need your help with this leak. mac and i weren’t able to fix it.”

“hello to you too,” charlie grumped, then when dennis didn’t bitch back, he sighed into the line. “okay. sure. i don’t have much to do here anymore anyway. the waitress is like - uh. i dunno, it’s hard to explain. if the police come asking for me, just tell them i’m innocent, or whatever, okay?”

“ _ police? _ what the hell?”

“they probably won’t, i’m just trying to keep my options open! she did  _ not _ like my latest idea of fliration, so…”

“alright - whatever, man. as long as you’re on your way.”

“i will be on my way shortly. best i can do.”

“works for us. see ya, charlie. you’re the best.”

“yeah, man. i know.” dennis could almost hear the twinkle in his eye.

dennis hung up, and risked a glance over at mac, who was grinning broadly. it was strange, to see the least.

“police?” mac echoed. dennis recalled, vaguely, that under normal conditions charlie’s escapade was something the two of them might tear apart and laugh over.

“yeah, dude, yeah.” dennis placed his words carefully between them, as though he were setting out fine china. he smiled despite himself. this caused mac to smile, mirror-like. and then, before he could even put words to it, the two men were cracking themselves up, doubling over, wheezing at the hilarity of the situation. of course charlie got the police on his ass over the most unrequited love story in the world. of course he did. dennis and mac stood in the dark, with water dripping steadily from the leak in the ceiling, and mac’s phone floating dead in the water, listening to each other’s relentless laughter echo around the walls of the empty bar.

the whole thing was - cathartic. to say the least.

when the laughter finally began to subside, a beam of sun pulsed peacefully through the storm clouds outside, casting a sliver of light across mac’s face. the skin beneath his eyes was crinkled with remnants of half-laughter, and his mouth was still turned up, effortlessly, thoughtlessly.

"what?" dennis snapped, watching mac's expression suddenly shift.

“you’re looking at me funny." 

dennis scoffed. “impossible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the saga continues.... also the characterization in this might be Not Great because it is pretty damn difficult to write dennis in love lemme tell u
> 
> but nonetheless i have faith in their gay, gay-ass love story <3 so on we go folks


	5. dennis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you know,” mac said, hazily, “we really should just date each other. there’s no one else out there who’s ever gonna forgive us for the shit we pull.”
> 
> dennis snorted. he looked down at mac. “you’re so high,” he said.
> 
> “ _you’re _so high,” mac retorted, eyelids drooping.__

that night, dennis kicked his sheets away, his body heated and distressed, refusing to shut down and put him out of his misery. through the open window, the serene sound of crickets overlapped with the endless stream of philadelphia traffic. the cool, post-storm breeze did nothing to cool dennis down, just brushed across his skin like lukewarm water, a near taunt. nature was laughing in his face. and all because one strange, unimportant, ladder-based experience was making him lose a _ little _ sleep.

dennis shoved an arm under his pillow, supporting his head. without warning, his hand bumped against something solid. 

he felt underneath his head again, pulled out the culprit. it was, lo and behold, mac’s high school diary. dennis’s little dumpster rescue-baby.

dennis stared at the diary blankly, not knowing how to comprehend the feelings coursing over him. though it had hardly been days since he’d read it, the thing somehow felt like an ancient relic.

dennis had never even read the whole thing, not really. he’d just skimmed some pages and got a feel for mac’s true feelings until he’d felt too light-headed to continue. really, to be honest, he'd probably understood the truth all along. mac was like a goddamn puppy dog when he had a crush. always leaping at the chance to do anything at all for you. he’d let dennis cheat off of his homework every night, for christ’s sake. and, for the record, it was a miracle that dennis had passed with that strategy. but here he was.

dennis thumbed through the diary absentmindedly. there was nothing else to do, after all. sleeping was certainly off the table. he arrived, after a few moments of half-reading, at the last page, and stopped dead in his tracks. a note was scotch-taped to the back inside cover. it was folded up into a miniature square, and on the outside, in mac’s messy high school scrawl, were the words  _ to dennis. _

dennis practically tore the thing open.

_ hey dennis, _ it read.

_ i’m sorry that i kissed you last night at the party. i was high and stupid. i didn’t mean to. i’m sorry about everything, really. last night was just weird. i get it if you want to find someone else to get your weed from. psycho pete probably knows some people. anyway. if you’re finding this, it means i was brave enough to shove it into your locker or your backpack or whatever. if not, well, maybe i decided it’s better to say it didn’t happen, and this is just my little useless chat with myself. either way, i couldn’t say this to your face. i don’t know how i’m gonna see you again. i’m sorry, dude. i hope things don’t change. i don’t want them to change. _

_ mac _

**15 years earlier**

vanessa chang’s party was supposed to be  _ the  _ rager of junior year. rumor had it her parents were both corporate big-shots, and her house was the biggest in philly. 

for dennis, this meant tons of rooms to lure girls into and see where the night took him. dennis had a bet with mac mcdonald that whoever got laid the most that night would get twenty bucks. to dennis? easy money. he’d smirked when mac had made the suggestion, but made no further quips as he agreed to take on the task.

dennis began the night with his head held high, strolling into the party with all the confidence he could possibly muster. dee wandered in a few steps behind him, per his orders. no way was his sister screwing this up for him by teetering in all awkwardly.

dennis had already had a couple swigs of cheap vodka in the car as dee drove, and he could feel the buzz starting to reach its peak. he spotted mac in the corner almost instantly, and tilted his head up ever so slightly, bro-nod style. mac returned it, of course in a less effortless and more comical way, but it made dennis smile nonetheless. the night was just about to begin.

they’d arrived late, naturally, but the trickle of people entering the party didn’t turn into a flood for another half hour or so. soon, though, even vanessa’s mansion-esque home was packed with high schoolers like sardines, bumping their heads awkwardly to trap music. even the keg stands lost their appeal after some kid got dropped and nearly crushed a sea of drunk teenagers.  _ it’s time to escape,  _ dennis thought.

the first girl was easy. some chick named maureen ponderosa. she was out there, sure, but not altogether ugly. he slunk an arm around her shoulder, and she started a little before looking him up and down with a curious smile. a little bit of sweet talk, and they were slipping into a guest bedroom and locking lips.

dennis found mac soon after he’d collected himself. the poor guy was leaning against the corner with a red solo cup in hand, awkwardly pitching in his share of small talk every now and then to the crowds surrounding him.  _ must be tough not being as suave as me,  _ dennis thought.

“no luck yet?” he asked, careful to be subtle about it.

mac sighed. “yeah, not really. shocker, i know. you?”

dennis smiled slyly. “see that chick over there? in the cat sweater?”

“oh, shit. you two did it?”

“yeah. no question. i just gave her a look and - well. we got down to it.”

“dude, you are wild.” mac grinned and clapped dennis on the shoulder. “i need to get on your level.”

“well, start by gettin’ out there, my friend.”

dennis meandered back into the crowd, glancing back at mac once before eyeing his next target. nikki potnick. she stood in the kitchen, arm casually on the counter, her attention relatively free. he’d had his eye on her for a while. maybe an eight out of ten, she was, definitely a higher reach than maureen. but nothing was a challenge dennis couldn’t handle.

“hey,” dennis said, leaning against the bar counter. “what’s up?” 

nikki glanced up at him through thick, blonde eyelashes. “what do you want, dennis.” the sentence was flat, hardly a question.

dennis scoffed. “want? i don’t want anything. unless talking to you is some horrible crime.”

nikki rolled her eyes. “unfortunately, it’s not.”

“i just thought…. maybe,” dennis said, leaning in, “we could go somewhere a little more quiet?” here was the winning move. he fluttered his mascara-clad eyelashes. “conduct some… private business.”

“oh.” dennis wouldn’t admit it, but he was actually a little surprised when nikki nodded knowingly. “yeah, i got you. c’mon. follow me.”

dennis reached for her hand, but she didn’t reach back as she pushed through the throng to find a room. once the door had shut, dennis leaned in closer, and nikki stumbled backwards, falling onto a grandly made queen bed.

“hey man, what the hell?” she asked, standing up and brushing herself off.

“wha - what do you mean, what the hell? this is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

“no, dude, when you said you wanted to conduct “private business”, i thought you meant you wanted some drugs! hot tip: next time you’re coming onto a girl, don’t talk about sex like some - transaction or whatever. it’s gross. and misleading.” she folded her arms.

dennis was stuck on the first part. “since when did you even  _ sell drugs _ ?”

“it’s just something i do quietly on the side. i don’t really like a lot of people to know. less chance of getting in trouble. which is why,” she dramatically gestured to the room, “we are here.”

“well, not really. you were going to sleep with me, is why we’re here.”

nikki scoffed. “ _ excuse _ you? since when were you even into women?”

“what?” dennis’s voice grew high. “are you insinuating that - that i’m -”

“that you’re gay? yeah, i am. it doesn’t help that you’re afraid to say it.”

“i’m not afraid to say -  _ gay.  _ obviously.” but the word felt leaden on his tongue.

“okay, dude. i couldn’t care less, because i’m not sleeping with you either way. do you want weed or not?”

dennis heaved out a sigh. “you know what - sure. what the hell.”

after that, dennis sauntered up to mac with all the confidence of a man who had just gotten laid.

“you’re lookin’ good,” mac said. he gasped, theater-style. “don’t tell me you hooked up with  _ another  _ chick? i can’t believe you.”

“oh, yeah,” dennis replied. “you know. me and maureen. me and lauren. me and claire, me and nikki potnick...”

“shit, dude. i don't even know how you do it. but hey. you and nikki potnick indeed.” mac high fived him.

“so, what about you? still nothing?” dennis asked.

“yeah, man,” mac said. “but just - don’t rub it in, okay?”

“what? me? rub it in? never. i just  _ was  _ gonna say, if i had to say anything…” dennis put on a guru-esque voice. “maybe it would help if you weren’t so…. abrasive. you know? people - they’re put off by you.”

“people are put off by  _ me? _ ” mac raised his voice on this one. dennis attempted to shush him, but to no avail. “dude, you’re the one who’s practically heartless! just seducing chicks with the flick of a finger and leaving them in the dust! maybe it says something good about me that i suck at this, you know?”

“are you kidding me? it was  _ your idea! _ you can’t use it to make  _ me _ look bad just because i’m better at it than you!”

“i just wanted to have fun, dennis, and you’re freaking me out! i mean, in and out of rooms like a hooker! you’re -”

“if you call me heartless  _ one more goddamn time -!” _

“you’re heartless! you’re heartless!” mac screamed it. everyone was watching the two of them now. mac and dennis, aware but unable to contain their rage, continued on as the crowd parted around them to observe, like romans watching a gladiator duel.

“ _ i am not heartless!  _ why does everyone fucking think - i  _ have feelings! _ ”

“well then maybe you should act like it and be a normal human being instead of going around banging chicks for twenty goddamn bucks!”

silence. the words sat in the air like a toxic fog. in the moment that dennis stood, silent, maureen ponderosa emerged through the crowd.

“dennis,” she said. “is that true? were you just banging me to - to get money from someone?”

dennis swallowed; everyone was watching him. “it’s… complicated,” he said.

her eyes were steely in a way he hadn’t even known they could be. “it’s not, really,” she replied. “it’s a yes or no question.” 

he croaked out a quiet, small, “yes.”

“sorry, couldn’t hear that,” maureen said, but he knew that she had.

but before dennis could, humiliated, enunciate the words that would shatter his reputation forever, mac stepped forward.

“it was my idea,” he said. “i’m the asshole who thought we should sleep with chicks as a bet.”

dennis should have stopped him. should have told him he didn’t have to do that. but he didn’t.

maureen’s eyes flitted from mac to dennis and then back again. dennis could see the gears turning in her head until they slowed, and she just sighed, exasperated. “whatever,” she said. “you know what? you’re both assholes. whoever’s idea it was, i don’t care.”

“i mean,” dennis managed, one final fight left in him, “it’s not like it wasn’t good.”

“fuck you, dennis,” maureen said. she pushed her way through the crowd. dennis followed her as the crowd dispersed and broke into chatter, but he didn’t look for her any further. instead, he found an empty room, stormed inside, and slammed the door shut. dennis sunk to the floor, head falling into his hands. there was some ache in the pit of his stomach that might have made that other people cry, that other people might have wept for hours over, but as he sat in silence, nothing fell from dennis’s eyes. he almost wanted the sob to be unleashed, to be torn from his body like a war cry, just so he knew it was there. that he was right. that he did feel things.

nothing came.

other than a knock at the door.

“dennis? it’s me.” mac’s voice was soft and tentative. 

dennis looked up, watched the door, imagined mac’s form behind it, apologetic and breakable.

“come in,” he said.

“hey.” the door cracked open slowly, then all at once. mac shut it behind him with a soft  _ click. _ “took a while to find you,” he said, smiling softly. “this house is like a goddamn maze.”

“tell me about it,” dennis said. “it loses its charm after a while.”

“you mean, after you get rejected in half of the bedrooms?” mac asked. dennis opened his mouth to retort, but mac was grinning so innocently that he just laughed instead.

“maybe,” dennis said, his dying laughter leaving behind the ghost of a smile. “maybe not.”

mac slid down to sit next to him.

“hey,” dennis said, “you wanna get high?”

mac looked at him quizzically. “isn’t that my line?”

“yeah, i know, usually. but one of the girls i tried to seduce… well, she thought i just wanted weed. so i was like, why the hell not. might as well get drugs out of all of this.” the gay part was irrelevant. not worth mentioning. dennis pulled out a stuffed dime bag, and mac, ever-prepared, pulled out a lighter.

“um.” mac said, surveying the setup in each of their hands. “d’you have, you know, papers? a pipe? anything?”

“oh. right.” dennis hadn’t gotten that far in the thought process. “i guess i wasn’t really planning to smoke this tonight.”

“clearly.” mac fished around in his back pocket, unearthing a half-smoked blunt. “here. just save that stuff for later.” dennis quickly obliged, shoving the weed back into his jacket. 

“go open a window, will you?” mac said, consonants off-kilter through the joint in he’d already stuck between his lips. “don’t wanna set off the smoke alarm or whatever.”

after dennis had gotten up and cracked a window, he made himself comfortable on the clean, made-up bed in the center of the room, reclining against a slew of decorative pillows. mac caught the hint and joined him, exhaling smoke as he settled into the other end of the mattress. he passed dennis the joint. dennis smoked it, tentatively. he wasn’t a trained stoner, not like mac was. weed was a strange drug, for dennis. sure, he had done stranger things with charlie. but glue or paint or whatnot was simple, unalarming. it made you feel powerful, strong, alert. it amplified the things dennis already knew he was. but with weed, everything was softer and more free. things leaked out.  _ emotions  _ leaked out. it made dennis feel unsafe, unguarded. especially, for some reason, around mac.

and yet, there was something undeniably relaxing about the high that washed over him after a few puffs. the room softened. the night’s arguments seemed to fade into the background. dennis watched mac smoke like a hypnosis patient would watch a swinging pocket watch; the methodical actions and the clean lines of his friend’s face on which they occurred were strangely soothing. luckily, mac wasn’t paying attention. he just closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling, as dennis observed, heavy-lidded and mesmerized.

“dude, i’m sorry about earlier,” mac said, after their serene silence had turned awkward around the edges. “i really am. i shouldn’t have made a scene. it was totally my idea.”

“yeah, well, you owned it, so i guess we’re even.” dennis smiled, his lips loose, creating the motion easily.

“maybe we  _ are _ both assholes,” mac said, laughing a little. “we both suck at this whole girl thing, don’t we.”

dennis found he was laughing, too. “we really do. look at us. we can’t get girls for shit.”

the two of them laughed and laughed until they were too tired to do so anymore, and mac reclined further into the bed, resting his head on dennis’s shoulder.

“you know,” mac said, hazily, “we really should just date each other. there’s no one else out there who’s ever gonna forgive us for the shit we pull.”

dennis snorted. he looked down at mac. “you’re so high,” he said.

_“you’re ___ _ _ so high,” mac retorted, eyelids drooping. __

____

__

“genius comeback, asshole.”

“c’mon, man,” mac said, grinning, “you know i’m right.”

dennis let himself laugh at the concept, but even in his inebriated state, something felt off. he looked down at mac, who couldn’t get enough of it, still leaning on dennis’s shoulder as he wheezed.

“dennis,” mac said, laughing, like he was about to tell some other joke that only he would find hilarious. “dennis. dude.”

dennis glanced at mac, trying to look cynical, ignoring the way his heart had begun banging against his ribcage when mac’s eyes wandered down to his mouth. “what?”

mac placed a hand on dennis’s leg to steady himself, leaned forward, and kissed him.

and for a moment, dennis accepted it. it was the weed, he would tell himself later. it was the weed that made every fiber of his being feel magnified. it was the weed that lit a flame in the pit of his stomach, dangerous and untamed and roaring. it was the weed that told him to put a hand on mac’s jaw, feel the faintest outline of stubble under his thumb, forget everything else in the world except that feeling.

then, dennis remembered. the world did in fact exist. and this - this could not happen.

he pushed mac away.

mac’s eyes flew open wide, pupils the size of the moon. the inebriated glaze in his eyes had been replaced with something far more alert, something that sent dennis’s head spinning in a million directions. he looked like a deer in the headlights.

“mac,” dennis said at last.

“i’m sorry,” mac said. the words leapt out of his mouth like a caged bird set free.

“mac,” was all dennis knew how to say. it was as though he had forgotten every single other word that existed.

mac, too, repeated himself. “i’m sorry. i’m really, really -” he directed his gaze towards the ceiling, and dennis couldn’t tell if mac was apologizing to god now, or just avoiding eye contact. “i’m really fucking sorry. i need to go.” he practically ejected himself from the bed, walked straight for the room’s exit.

“wait, mac, c’mon -”

“what?” mac paused at the door, eyes ablaze as he looked back at dennis. the ferocity in his gaze was unnerving. “is there something you need to tell me? something i don’t know about what this is?”

dennis could feel the bob in his throat as he swallowed. “no,” he said hoarsely.

the door slammed shut.

the party was no fun after that. even through dennis’s haze, the night had lost its spark. it was getting late, anyway, and people were starting to go home. after a painstaking, twenty-minute hunt for dee, he finally dragged her away from a cup-flipping tournament despite her protests.

“you better be sober enough to drive us home,” he said.

“sober, schmober,” she said, and then proceeded to hiccup. “i’ll be fine.”

this was debatable, but dennis’s skin was itching, and in the heat of the moment, the most important thing was getting away from that goddamn party. dee followed him outside to the lawn.

“what’s gotten into you?” she whined. “the party’s just getting started.”

“well, for us, it’s over,” dennis said as they left the property. as he made a beeline for their car, he made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder for one last glance at it all, and then there was mac, on his knees in the chang’s pristine white gazebo, eyes to the sky, fucking  _ praying.  _ dennis could imagine the words coming from his mouth: a whole lot of bullshit about being a sinner and betraying god and whatever other crap he’d been brainwashed to believe. if dennis wasn’t so intent on forgetting about mac for the night, he would have felt bad for him. offered the guy a ride, maybe.

instead, he turned on his heel and didn’t look back until he was home.

**present**

dennis blinked, head swimming.  _ that was a dream,  _ he thought.  _ i told myself that was a dream. _

he looked down at the note in front of him.  _ i’m sorry, _ again and again. the words almost jumped off of the page. dennis’s chest ached.

he knew what could fix this. what could make him forget. 

dennis rustled around in his drawers for a good minute until he found it: an old altoids case stuffed with a few hand-rolled joints. the strong smell of the weed filled his room almost instantaneously, and he pushed away the memories that it conjured. after another moment of digging, a lighter followed. he hadn’t smoked in a while, and he’d been saving those joints for a special occasion. maybe that time was now.

he let the spliff dangle between his lips for a moment, holding the lighter, thumb on the trigger. before he could light it, though, he glanced at his door. and then, despite all of his instincts, he stood up and wandered into the living room.

no mac.

he knocked on mac’s bedroom door, open ajar. “mac?” he called. his voice came out strange, hoarse. he tried again. “mac? i, uh, found some - well, you know, like when we were - maybe we could -” dennis wasn't quite sure how the sentence would finish, or if it ever would, but evidently, it wouldn't matter. he pushed open the door, and no mac.

“mac?” dennis called to the apartment at large. no one answered.

dennis picked up his cell phone. no new texts. he opened his messages with mac, typed out a long, worrisome text, stared at it for a minute, and then deleted the whole thing. onto the couch went the phone. no pitiful little where-are-you messages would be sent tonight.

dennis closed his eyes, lit up the joint, and took a long, slow drag.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alexa play why didnt you stop me by mitski
> 
> now that ive gotten that off my chest,, originally i was going to make another chapter from mac's perspective to try and even out the whole alternating perspective pattern, but then i wanted to reveal some history thru dennis's eyes and i just got so on a roll writing this chapter that i Had to publish it first. i hope u guys have just as much fun reading it as i did writing it !! also ft me sneaking in a high school au without having to make a whole fic of it ofc <3


	6. mac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to mac's pov again... i wish i could say im finally sorting out the whole alternating pattern but probably not <3 just as a refresher, this does take place at the same time as dennis's perspective last chapter (approximately)!
> 
> also: if you're hoping for explicit scenes this will not be the fic for you im sorry to say! and if you tend to avoid those, congratulations, nothing in this chapter will go very far even if it seems like it might! i'm a minor so i pretty much steer clear of writing and posting all that kind of stuff for personal reasons. obviously these people are adults so there will be some implied intimacy, but i will be cutting the scenes off before things get intense. thanks for understanding beloveds :))

mac and dennis arrived home early after fixing the leak that night. the bar’s turnout had been low, and after all the outages and cold weather and whatnot, no one had mustered up the energy for any schemes or banter. what they all really needed after everything was a good night’s sleep.

easier said than done, of course.

mac tossed and turned in his bed that evening, listening to the rain drum steadily against his window. dennis was already asleep, or at least pretending to be, so it was mac against the world. or possibly just against his own thoughts. in the dim orange glow of his bedside lamp, he thumbed a torn piece of notebook paper with messy black scrawl across its front.  _ diego - 267-454-1918 _

mac swallowed.

the gang materialized in his head, each of them knowing a truth that even mac himself couldn’t face. somehow, even in his mind’s eye, their expressions were judgemental enough to pierce through steel.  _ if we can see it, _ they said,  _ why can’t he?  _ and then there was dennis, at the end of the mental line, looking him right in the eye.  _ you can’t pretend forever,  _ he said.  _ not while i’m here. _

mac dialed the number.

diego picked up after a good long set of rings - so long that mac had almost given up altogether. but just as he’d started to set down the phone, a voice crackled through the speaker. “hello?”

mac’s mouth went dry, and for a moment, he forgot how to speak.

diego prodded again. “hello? is anyone there?”

mac swallowed and quickly regained himself. “uh, hey, diego, it’s me - it’s mac, i mean. from the bar?”

“oh shit, hey! i was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.” mac could almost hear a teasing grin through the phone. his chest ached.

“nope.” mac half-forced a laugh. “i definitely didn’t forget.” this last part was mostly to himself.

“alright, well, glad to hear it, man. you still up to grab a drink sometime?”

“you know… yeah, i think i am. in fact -” mac glanced at his alarm clock, haphazardly situated on the corner of his nightstand. it was barely past nine pm. “how about right now? i’ve got this feeling i won’t be sleeping for a while.”

“uh -” diego was silent for one contemplative moment. “bit odd of a request, but i’ll allow it. you’re lucky i slept in this morning, mac.”

“okay.” mac ignored the flirtatious ring diego gave to his name. “lucky indeed.”

“how’s franklin’s sound?” diego asked.

fifteen minutes later, mac found himself sliding into a barstool at franklin’s, self-consciously adjusting the slightly nicer t-shirt he’d changed into. he drummed his fingers on the table, then flagged down the bartender for a beer. if he didn’t take the edge off immediately, god knows what fresh hell would unfold.

diego slid in next to him not minutes later.

“hey, you,” he said, and there it was, that exact flirtatious, white-toothed grin mac had imagined over the phone, as dangerously intoxicating as ever.  _ there goes being straight,  _ mac thought.

the two men made their way into small talk with surprising ease. the beer - and then another and maybe one more - definitely helped. diego had taste. taste and class and style. it was as if god had put him on the earth just to test mac’s limits.

which were blurred at the moment.

a fleetwood mac song began to play, muted, on the radio.

“aw man, i love this song,” diego said offhandedly, sipping his drink.

“yeah?” mac’s chest thrummed. “so does -” he cut himself off. there was, in fact, one thing - one  _ person - _ that would remain off-limits tonight.

“so does…?”

“sorry. so -  _ do -  _ i. my grammar gets messy when i’m drunk.” mac forced a laugh, but luckily, it slipped out naturally in his drunken state.

diego was saying something else, but the song had wormed its way into mac’s head.  _ the chain.  _ of course. even mac wasn’t dense enough to miss the dramatic irony of that one.

_ i can still hear you saying _

_ you would never break the chain _

god, when was the last time he had heard that one? it had been so long ago, it was almost strange how vividly he remembered it. dennis, staring dutifully at the road ahead, only closing his eyes for a brief moment to internalize the music. mac had watched him from the passenger seat; watched the trancelike state of the music take over his normally so carefully composed frame. 

_ never break the chain…  _ he’d mouthed.

“so?” diego was asking. “how does that sound?”

“hm? oh, yeah. sure. sounds good.” mac said the words casually, absentmindedly. whatever he was agreeing to couldn’t be too bad, right? better than revealing he’d slipped up.

“alright, sweet.” diego pulled out his wallet and stood up as he grabbed a couple bills.

“wait - um - ?” and then the truth sunk into mac like an ice pick to the chest.

“yeah?” diego looked up at mac, brow crinkled softly. “you  _ are _ down to go back to my place, right? i mean, i’d order more drinks, but it’s getting a little late - seeing as how you met me for a date at nine-thirty and all.” the small smile accompanying the words offered no malice.

mac’s mouth went dry. he had about two seconds to figure a way out of this.

“mm-hm,” he said. “let’s head out.”

the taxi back to diego’s apartment was tense. too tense.

“you okay?” diego asked, glancing over at mac. he slid a hand across the backseat, rested it on mac’s thigh. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were new to this.” 

mac forced a laugh for the second time that night. it didn’t come out as easily as the first. “hah. yeah. right. me. new to this.” all his senses felt focused on the small, casual touch of diego’s hand.

diego raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the matter further. 

they hadn’t even made their way into the apartment yet before diego pressed his mouth against mac’s, firm and warm, and mac resigned to the feeling, putting his hands in foreign places, all the while thinking,  _ oh. this is what it’s supposed to feel like. _

“you alright?” diego asked as he fumbled for a key. he kissed mac’s jaw, quick and sweet. “you look a little, uh… shell-shocked.”

“yeah, i’m fine, i’m fine,” mac said. the door swung open and then shut, and diego grinned against mac’s mouth as they stumbled through the apartment, limbs entangling. after a moment, mac pulled away. “okay, i lied. i mean, earlier. and also about being fine. i’m not - well. i actually, um… i am new to this. not - not  _ sex. _ ” he forced out a strange laugh. “but - dudes. yeah.”

“oh.” diego pulled away, but there wasn’t a single crease of judgement across his face. it would almost be aggravating, if mac hadn’t been filled with relief first. “why didn’t you just say something?”

“i dunno, i didn’t want you to judge me… and also, you thought i was dating den - that guy at the bar, i mean, my coworker, so, i didn’t really know how to tell you that wasn’t real…”

diego grinned. “oh, i kinda picked that up. you didn’t really seem to have your story straight with that one. but with your good looks,” and he put a hand on mac’s shoulder, “i just figured it was impossible you haven’t been pursued by half the gay guys in philly already.”

“and the fact that i own a gay bar,” mac supplied.

another smile. “yeah. that too. but hey, there’s a first time for everything, mac.” his hand wandered. “and for everyone. and if you’re comfortable, i think you’d enjoy having that first time with me.”

mac’s body sighed into the touch, and, for the second time that night, he allowed himself to try on something new.

  
  
  


mac came to the next morning gently at first, stirring in the hazy sunshine that filtered through diego’s curtains. and then he thought:  _ diego. _

which was quickly followed by:  _ shit. shit shit shit shit, shit shit shit - _

“morning, cutie,” diego murmured sleepily, shifting on the bed beside him. 

“mm,” mac replied, not all that affectionately. “i, uh.” he swallowed, taking in diego’s heavy-lidded, dark-eyed gaze, and his shirtless chest. “i have to go. sorry.”

“hey, c’mon.” diego grinned and slinked an arm over mac’s waist, which, admittedly, would have taken a great deal of mental energy to detach from. on the other hand, mac was dedicating plenty of his mental energy towards more pressing matters.

still, he allowed it for a moment. he had already allowed… a lot. and dennis already had figured out he was gone, probably. what was one more embrace in the grand scheme of things?

diego leaned in towards mac, smiling softly as he pressed their lips together. mac closed his eyes, giving into the feeling, until - 

an image of dennis emblazoned itself against the eye of mac’s mind, mid-kiss, devastatingly vivid. mac tried to ignore it for a moment, but, true to his nature, dennis refused to leave as the kiss intensified. mac all but pushed diego away, his breath short as he scrambled to his feet.

“morning breath?” diego asked, a sly grin replacing his brief confusion.

“um… yes. sorry. just that morning… uh. morning breath. happens to the best of us.”

“unless it’s something else, of course?” and, of course, infuriatingly enough, diego looked  _ concerned.  _ he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t even hurt. he just… cared. because he wanted to. how strange was that?

“i mean, no - not really, i just - have to go home, is all. my roommate is probably waiting for me, i didn’t really tell anyone where i was, so…” mac chewed his lip.

diego raised his eyebrows. “not hiding your little bar husband from me, are you?”

mac blanched, but quickly recovered. “no. i have no - husband. just an actual, honest-to-god roommate. who will probably freak if i’m not around.”

diego chuckled. “i’m messing with you, man. we talked about this. we’re good.”

“okay,” mac said, sighing into the words. “yeah. okay.”

diego stood up, and mac tried to not stare too long at his figure. “guess i’ll show you out,” diego said, taking on a comically dejected tone. “even if i don’t want to.”

naturally, diego tried to offer mac a cup of hot, fresh coffee before he left, which was difficult to deny. but mac steeled his gaze on the future ahead, ignoring the tantalizing smell of the espresso machine. maybe he could even make it back before dennis was awake. only if he left right now.

this plan fizzled out very quickly, as mac had not brought a key. because of course he had forgotten that. of course.

he stood at the door to his and dennis’s apartment wordlessly after bidding good-bye to diego and delicately refusing a public kiss. now, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. mac’s watch read  _ 11:34 _ am. so, maybe dennis was still asleep, then, and he could sneak in through the fire escape, and pretend the whole night never happened. mac was just about to turn back and haul his ass through the second-story window when, as if by some psychic force, dennis swung open the door. 

“oh. hi,” mac said.

dennis bypassed introductions. “thought i heard you in the hall. you were gone last night.”

“oh, yeah, i, uh, i was. wasn’t i.”

“you were.”

they stood there, regarding each other.

“so. who made this walk of shame happen?” dennis finally asked.

“huh?”

“dude. who did you sleep with last night. i don’t see why else you would be leaving in the dead of night and showing up at eleven.”

“maybe i went to… the store.”

“and slept there? nice try.”

“why is it any of your business? i didn’t realize i was required to be present at certain hours. last time i checked, you didn’t control me.”

this gave dennis pause, enough for mac to worm his way into the apartment. dennis made a vague noise of protest after mac but did nothing else.

mac sniffed the air. “why does our whole apartment smell like weed? you haven’t smoked in ten years.”

“maybe we all went on adventures last night,” dennis said.

“well. i never said i went on an - adventure.” mac sniffed his shoulder, and panic washed over him as he smelled diego’s cologne. “i have to take a shower,” he said quickly. “open a window, or something. that smell is driving me crazy.”

in the shower, mac’s thoughts wandered.

**fifteen years ago**

mac’s last few times smoking weed had some - interesting memories attached to them.

there was, of course, that instance at the party - an incident he’d pushed as deep down as possible, and yet it still rose to the surface on occasion, buoyant as driftwood.

after that night, he’d smoked weed less, been more cautious around it. he’d gone a solid couple weeks without as much as lifting a joint - which was saying a lot, for him.

unfortunately, this meant mac was devastatingly lucid when he and dennis ran into each other.

they’d managed to keep to their own for a couple days after that god-awful party. of course, dennis had always thought he was immensely popular, but mac knew better. mac knew the guy. they’d gotten closer as high school had went on, and really, dennis wasn’t as intimidating as he let on. he couldn’t fly solo for long, and he certainly didn’t have admirers flocking to him to take mac’s place. 

so, mac it was, the very next wednesday, under the bleachers at lunch.

but here was the thing: mac had almost - almost - slipped dennis a note to try and make everything better. and then he just - hadn’t. he couldn’t even explain why. maybe it was the fact that the note made it that much more real, cemented the moment permanently in their history. maybe he couldn’t find the right time to slip dennis the letter discreetly. or maybe it was just plain old-fashioned cowardice. either way, the note had gotten tucked away in the back of mac’s diary, just in case. maybe if things were still screwed up in a couple months, he would have a magic vehicle tucked away to apologize for him. to apologize for ruining it all.

today was not the day for that. 

dennis approached mac cautiously, twiddling his thumbs, his body language all out of character. 

“hey,” he said. “thought i might find you here.”

“yeah,” mac said, “i’ve been sort of laying low since, y’know, the whole school watched us be at each other’s throats. among other things.” he added this last part quietly. 

“i know,” dennis said. “about that.”

“dennis, i’m -”

dennis held up a hand. “it didn’t happen. really. i’m not gonna let you be all contrite about it and make it weird and - just.” he gritted his teeth. “it. didn’t. happen.”

“okay. um, yeah. sure.”

dennis stood frozen, his eyes betraying the million thoughts clashing in his mind. “and - you know,” he finally said, like it pained him to say it, “you’re not a sinner. for, you know.”

mac made a quizzical face. “for what?”

“for being…” dennis scratched at his head. “i don’t know. gay. into guys. that.”

“oh. well, i’m not gay, so i wasn’t worried about sinning or anything.” mac smiled.

the look dennis gave mac, sympathetic and angry and at a loss all at once, made mac’s chest tighten in an inexplicable way.

“you’re not…” dennis scratched his head. “fine. okay. works for me.” he pulled a sack lunch from his backpack. “so, can i sit?”

**present**

mac stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself carefully in a towel.

“hey, dennis?”

dennis poked his head into the bathroom without knocking. “yeah?”

“um, i just - i wanted to tell you something.”

“okay.” dennis’s face was unreadable. not unusual, but that made it no less unnerving. 

“the…. person - that i slept with, you know…. cause i did, sleep with someone, i mean, not like you didn’t know that -”

“yeah. i knew.”

“okay, well. that person. was. um. a guy. but don’t tell anyone else,” mac added quickly. “definitely not charlie or dee or frank or whoever you might want to tell. please?”

dennis smiled. it was a careful, small smile, but nonetheless genuine and whole, and, in all his anxiousness, mac had to return the gesture.

“of course, dude,” dennis said after a moment. “you know, i’m really happy you felt like you could tell me. and - well, i’m happy for you. for getting that off your chest. good for you.”

mac’s cheeks grew warm. “you already knew, didn’t you.”

dennis rolled his eyes, but it was almost -  _ almost _ \- affectionate. “yeah, mac. i’ve known for a long time. but owning it - that’s different. so really. congrats.”

they stood in the doorway, not speaking.

“thanks,” mac said belatedly.

“so,” dennis said, “are you two… y’know… dating now? or was it some - one night stand?”

“i mean… neither? it was just a - first date kind of thing. we got drinks and all. but he’s sweet. so. i don’t know.”

dennis opened and closed his mouth. his face was blank. “oh. cool.”

“yeah. it’s cool.”

more silence.

“what’s his name?”

“diego.” mac looked down. fidgeted with his hands. “uh… “d’you mind if i -?” he looked out the door, over dennis’s shoulder. “i should get dressed, so.”

“oh. of course, yeah.” dennis stepped aside. mac couldn’t look at his face as he passed dennis by. instead his gaze flitted over the windows, all of them still unopened. he couldn't muster a complaint, either.


	7. dennis

that night, dennis threw himself into work.

luckily, the bar was fairly busy, so it wasn’t too difficult a task. he made each drink perfectly, measuring every liquid down to the ounce.

“damn, what’s gotten into you?” dee asked, as she watched him perfect another screwdriver. “you know, if you’re looking for a pay raise, i’m pretty sure you can just arrange that with yourself.”

“not looking for a pay raise,” dennis said. “just. working hard. because i want to.”

“yeah, and the moon is made of green cheese.”  
“actually, it’s never been confirmed that it’s not,” charlie pitched in from a crouched position under the bar.

dennis began to refute this, but stopped himself as a “hey, you,” sounded loudly through the bar. some buff, spanish-looking guy had his hand raised from where he sat in a booth, and he was staring directly at mac, who had frozen in the middle of the room.

dennis busied himself with a drink that no one had ordered.

“the hell?” dee muttered. “is he talking to - do you know who that is?”

“no,” dennis said quickly, staring intently at his work.

“you didn’t even look,” dee said. “c’mon.”

dennis glanced up briefly, catching sight of the man’s - who must have been diego - chiseled features and tan, muscled limbs. he looked back down at his scrawny bartender hands. “don’t know him.”

but dennis had to direct his gaze back upwards, alongside dee and charlie, just for a moment. mac walked over to diego, tentatively. they exchanged some inaudible words, a subtle graze of the hands. and then diego leaned in for a kiss. on the lips.

multiple things happened at once: dee yelped in surprise, mac stumbled backwards and nearly tripped over his own feet, and diego called after him - “mac!” - in a voice both upset and sympathetic. mac whirled around, face red, eyes flitting nervously from dee, to charlie, and then finally, to dennis - who winced in sympathy to the best of his ability. he threw up his hands, as if to say  _ i didn’t make them look. _

but mac’s face remained steely, even if dennis knew better than to trust the expression. mac stalked into the back room and slammed the door shut. a few patrons glanced around, confused, before returning to their business.

mac’s boy toy did not return to his business. in fact, he was heading straight for dennis.

“fuck. you guys, do something to get him out of here,” dennis said.

“dude, what is wrong with you tonight?” dee asked. she gave him a once-over. “you’re sure you didn’t hear anything about this guy? from mac, maybe? is that what this is about?”

“what? you’re insane, dee, why would this be about - hey hey hey, man, what’s goin’ on!!” dennis cut himself off to do a bro-style handshake with diego. his voice came out louder than necessary, and he was acutely aware of its high pitch for no reason he could name.

“hey, man,” diego said. “look, you’re mac’s roommate, right? his fake ex?”

“ _ ex? _ ” dee and charlie said in unison, just as dennis said, “ _ fake _ ?”

dennis glanced at his friends. “you guys all remember the - couple stint we did for publicity purposes,” he said through gritted teeth. “that ex. i didn’t realize he was going around telling people the truth about that.”

“oh, not people,” diego said cheerfully. “just me.”

“that is so fantastic.” dennis clapped him on the shoulder, too roughly. 

“wait,” charlie cut in, “are you dating mac?”

“oh my god,” dee added, “finally, he actually has a boyfriend. spill, dude.”

diego clicked his tongue. “uh… i don’t think it’s my place to tell you guys about that. in fact, i think i kind of screwed things up in that department. so i’m not gonna make it any worse.”

“oh come on, we’re his best friends,” said dee. “plus, you kind of just gave it away anyway, so.” she and charlie snickered.

“christ,” dennis said, “you two are goddamn children. go serve some drinks.” he looked up to diego, trying not to grimace. “so, what do you want, man? what’s up?”

“i was just wondering if you had any tips, for, uh, making things right with mac. i didn’t really know he was ashamed -”

“he’s not ashamed,” dennis said hotly. “by the way. just wanted to clear that up. i mean, sure, he’s not perfectly comfortable being himself in public, but it’s a learning curve, and ashamed has negative connotations -”

“jeez, dennis, let the dude talk,” dee said as she filled up a glass, and, well, when something _she_ said contained a ring of truth, that meant he _really_ needed to back down. so he did.  
“i get all that,” diego said, after he had looked back and forth between the two of them. “i do. i didn’t mean to imply it’s a bad thing. i just didn’t know he wasn’t…” he glanced at charlie and dee, “out. i mean, seeing how he pretended to be dating you, and all.” diego directed his gaze back at dennis for this part, and it might have been imagined, but something in his cordial eyes seemed to have hardened ever so slightly. “so. anything you know that might help an apology go over better? anything at all?”

dennis contemplated this - and what a socially acceptable response might look like. none of them were favorable. he looked at the ceiling. he looked back to diego. 

“nah, man,” dennis finally said. “just be yourself. you seem like a really nice guy. and it was a genuine mistake - you weren’t clued in. so just… do you. if i know mac - and i do - he’ll come around.”

“thanks, man. really. uh, dennis, is it?”

“yeah. yeah, it’s dennis. no problem at all.” 

diego walked off, whistling a tune like a stupid little bird. when dennis finally looked up from his pensive grimace into the bar counter, he saw charlie and dee staring at him in awe.

“what?” he snapped.

“nothing,” charlie said, singsong. “it just seems like you’re the one who ended up coming around.”

“that was very grown-up of you, dennis,” dee said. “a change of heart.”

he gave the most colossal eye roll imaginable to the both of them.

mac, meanwhile, did not seem to be “coming around”. rather, an abundance of angry shouts were arising from the back room, sailing over even the most rambunctious of patrons. despite the volume, the exact words were inaudible. dee, dennis, and charlie sat in silence, unable to do anything but sit and eavesdrop, trying to decode the noises. dennis, for one, didn’t care if that made him an asshole.

the voices rose, and then, the sound of something falling to the ground. dennis stood up, but charlie pushed him back down. 

“dude,” charlie said, “he’s probably fine. i’m sure they just needed to throw some shit - get it out of their system, or whatever.”

“so,” dee said, looking at the two of them conspiratorially, “now that we’re making conversation… mac’s really dating a guy, huh? that really happened?”

“guess so,” dennis said. it took every ounce of self control not to make the words stiff and hard-edged.

“how did they even meet? it’s not like he goes around partying at gay bars,” charlie said.

dennis looked at him pointedly.

“oh,” charlie said. “right.”

“well, i think it’s good for him,” dee said. “i mean, finally getting to embrace who he is, you know? i just hope this whole ‘coming out’ thing doesn’t ruin it for them. i mean, it’s not like we haven’t known for forever. and it’s the 21st century. how can he give a shit anymore?”

“it’s more complicated than that,” dennis said. “i’d assume.”

“you really are in a mood tonight, aren’t you,” dee said. “you sure you’re not secretly into diego yourself?”

“ha!” dennis spit out a laugh like it was blood. “no. i am not into diego.”

“okay, but you were really going at that handshake a few minutes ago, so…” charlie trailed off.

“it’s a handshake, it’s not like i was sucking his dick - ” dennis cut himself off too late and inhaled carefully, feeling his cheeks heat up as his words sunk in. luckily, it was just seconds later that diego decided to storm out of the back room, recapturing the attention of his two-person audience. 

“hey, guys.” diego’s tone was terse as he walked along the edge of the room, skirting the bar; he didn’t stop walking as he spoke. “thanks for the drinks tonight. i’ll see you.”

“it’s not like they were fucking free,” dennis muttered. “unless mac arranged something we don’t know about.”

“speak of the devil,” said dee.

mac followed diego out of the room belatedly; his eyes were downcast, his sulking almost comical in nature. 

“we should do something for him,” said charlie quietly, so only dennis and dee could hear.

“what do you mean?” dee asked.

“like, i dunno, don’t people like to mess around and get drunk after breakups? why don’t we shut down the bar, do some - karaoke, maybe -”

“who says they even broke up?” dennis interjected. “they were hardly together in the first place.”

“c’mon,” dee said, “just look at him. break up or not, he needs a hand.”

“so what,” dennis said, “we just shoo everyone out of the bar so we can do shots and sing at the top of our drunken lungs?”

they got everyone out in five minutes.

“okay, okay, i’m going first,” dee called over her shoulder, “because i’m hauling this dusty-ass karaoke machine out of the back for all of you. and i’m pretty sure it’s heavy.”

“thank you for informing us all of your backbreaking labour,” dennis said. “we all pity you deeply.”

dee flipped him off and stalked into the other room.

as she rummaged around, mac slid into a stool next to dennis.

“you alright?” dennis said - half obligatory.

“yeah,” mac responded, “why wouldn’t i be?”

“uh -”  _ this guy really can’t admit to anything, can he?  _ “i don’t know, maybe because you and - diego - just had some big blowout in our back room.”

“oh, that was minor. just a little dispute. nothing to worry your pretty little head about.” mac patted dennis’s cheek with the kind of affection typically directed at a cat. it made dennis want to throttle him. or really, anyone.

“let’s do some shots,” he said instead.

charlie did the honors of pouring out generous helpings for every one of them, and by the time dee had returned with the machine, multiple shots of fireball whiskey had already been rapidly downed.

dee, true to her insistence, went first, with an off-key but passionate rendition of celine dion’s “my heart will go on”. at least it seemed to cheer mac up, which made up for the absolute ear splitting-ness of it. also, more drinks went down to compensate for the pain. never a bad thing. 

“hey, bro, thanks for throwing this thing together,” mac said, leaning close to dennis as dee continued to belt. his breath already smelled of alcohol, and his words were vaguely slurred. clearly he’d needed to forget the night’s earlier events more than he'd let on. “‘t was cool of you.”

dennis shrugged, looking elsewhere. “it was a team effort.”

but mac continued prattling. “let’s go next,” he said. “i wanna do something fun. something from the 80s.”

“let’s?” dennis echoed.

“yeah! what, did you think i was gonna let you stand up there alone like some sad old man?” dennis opened his mouth in protest, but mac was already moving on. “how about a song by, like, the human league. like, that song, ‘don’t you want me, baby’?”

“what?” dennis said sharply. the words had cut through his half-drunken state.

“the song. by the human league. goes, uh, ‘don’t you want me -’”

“yes, i know how it goes,” dennis interrupted through gritted teeth. “you mean ‘don’t you want me’. there’s no baby in the name.”

“oh, so you know it! that’s great, cause it’s a perfect duet song. got two parts and everything.”

dee set the mic down on the table, and the obnoxious reverb caught everyone’s attention. “you three better have been listening to me. ‘cause i just killed it.”

“sure you did,” dennis said, as charlie high-fived dee. “c’mon, mac, let’s get this over with.” 

mac threw back another shot before nearly leaping to the center of the room. he thumbed through the karaoke book eagerly. “oh my god, they have it! den.”

“uh-huh.”

“okay, so it looks like the lyrics play on this little box above the speaker…” mac tapped around for a moment, and a synth started blasting.

“ah,” mac slurred in drunken surprise, “i wasn’t ready -”

“just go, man, we have a few seconds or something.”

“okay, okay,” mac handed dennis a mic, as the intro pumped through the speakers, and their hands brushed in the sloppy rush of it all. a small laugh escaped dennis against his will. 

“i’m doing the first part,” mac said quickly, before launching into the lines half a beat too late, “ _ you were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar, when i met you…” _

“bit heterosexual, but alright,” dennis muttered. he swayed awkwardly, not knowing what sure to do with any part of his body as mac went all-out, infusing each note with vibrato and hitting 80’s poses as if he was freddie mercury on queen’s world tour. he glanced towards charlie and dee, who simply shrugged at him.  _ more people to throttle tomorrow morning. if i’m not dying of a goddamn hangover. _

“ _ don’t, don’t you want me…”  _ mac sang. he closed his eyes, grinning into the euphoric pop. there was something uncomfortable writhing in dennis’s stomach, something that could only be forgotten with more alcohol. as mac was rendered blind to the music, dennis snuck another shot off of the bar counter - much to charlie’s chagrin - and tossed it down his throat in one burning gulp.

“chorus! chorus!” mac chanted, over his supposed lines. “den, you’re in!”

dennis rolled his eyes, but made it to his spot just in time to chime in: “ _ don’t you want me, baby? don’t you want me, oh _ ?” he found himself glancing at mac as he said this line, and of course mac was already looking back. dennis should have abhorred such a thing, hated it so much that he left that room and never returned, but he didn’t. he couldn’t. instead, he turned to face mac in full, repeating the line again. mac was grinning wildly, his face sleek with sweat and his hair a mess, pursing his lips like a vain, cigarette-smoking, washed-up celebrity. dennis laughed into the lyrics, locking eyes with mac, and somehow, the alcohol and the dim lights and the music all came together to make dennis’s body dance, full-on moving, hips swaying this way and that to the beat. there wasn’t much room to think about how much this would embarrass him tomorrow, because, really, the only other person in the room that existed was mac.

dennis moved closer to the screen to read his lyrics, singing some stupid verse about being a waitress in a cocktail bar. and then mac was a foot away from his face, singing “ _ don’t… don’t you want me” _ , and dennis grinned ear to ear, stepping in closer so that they were inches apart as the chorus swelled and the two of them sang in unison. as they continued to belt, sloppily and passionately, dennis was struck by a sudden idea. the key point, of course, being that the inspiration struck  _ him _ . as a sledgehammer strikes an unassuming citizen. on the other hand, he was too tipsy to feel the full force of its blow. 

dennis grabbed mac’s free hand, which mac made no move against. in fact, seeming to read dennis’s mind, mac twirled under dennis’s arm, bringing himself hardly inches from dennis. their fingertips lingered in each other’s grasp, and so dennis pulled mac in closer again, the two karaoke microphones taking up the only space between their faces. dennis met mac’s eyes and didn’t move his gaze, glued to his dark stare as the lyrics carried on and on:  _ don’t you want me, baby, don’t you want me, oh, don’t you want me, baby… _

after one long, heated moment, mac stepped back to point a finger delightfully at dennis. dennis exhaled a laugh, feeling as though his face would shatter from the way he was grinning so ceaselessly. 

and then the music began to fade out. dennis huffed in disappointment, sparing one last glance at suave, 80’s pop-star mac before clattering his microphone down on some irrelevant surface. when he looked up, dee and charlie were staring, slack-jawed and wide eyed, at the two of them, who were considerably less shocked by the whole affair. in fact, dennis was pretty sure he was still smiling, but his face was starting to feel numb, so he wasn’t all that sure.

“okay, little lovebirds,” dee said, after a beat of thick silence, “get a room or get off the stage.”

“wha - you’re the bird! you’re the bird!” mac shouted, aiming a finger sloppily in dee’s direction. 

“mhm,” dennis added. “this is not, y’know…” he imitated loud kissing noises.

“okay,” dee said, “sure. now go get some rest. or, i don’t know, sleep together, for all i care.”

dennis and mac pointedly avoided each other’s gazes.

“‘m gonna call a cab,” dennis muttered, stalking to the other side of the room, or at least, as much as he could stalk in his drunken state. before dennis finished dialing, he glanced over at mac, who was awkwardly fiddling with his fingers in that way he did where he was about to say something. dennis willed himself to conjure up a moment of half-sobriety and tune in.

“oh, by the way,” he was saying to charlie and dee, “you guys know i’m gay, right?”

they snorted.

“i mean,” charlie said, “we kind of knew before tonight, but after that…”  
“oh, we _know_ know,” dee said.

dennis tried to press the button to call the cab, but missed, deleting the number he’d so painstakingly dialed. “fuck.”

“you cool, den?” mac called.

“oh so very cool, mr. mac.” he finally managed to punch the number in again and call the philly cab service, who informed him a driver would arrive in ten minutes.

dennis wandered back over to the rest of the gang. “ten minutes,” he said, holding up the phone as if the device was somehow proof. he sat down on a barstool as charlie made his way into the center of the room.

“i will, of course, be singing an original,” charlie said grandly, “so be prepared to be blown away.”

a drunken laugh bubbled out of mac as he leaned over, head resting lightly on dennis’s shoulder. dennis allowed it, ignoring dee’s pointed look. writing pit of unknown heat in dennis’s stomach aside, charlie’s eight-minute, acapella opera was surprisingly not terrible, and it made for decent entertainment until a sleek yellow car pulled up early outside of the bar.

“oh,” dennis said, “guess we gotta go, mac. sleepytime ‘n all that.” dennis grabbed mac’s hand and started to tug him, void of argument, towards the door when suddenly dennis stopped himself. 

mac, unprepared, bumped into dennis. “what?” he whined.

“i just -” dennis surveyed mac’s face, and then surveyed his own unwelcome thoughts, the strange twinging that occurred in his chest when he looked at mac for too long. he was starting to appreciate not having that final shot dee had offered to him.

“actually,” dennis said, backing away carefully, “i’m gonna, um. sleep here tonight.”

mac made a face. “what are you talking about, dude, c’mon, just come home.” he put a hand on dennis’s shoulder, and dennis took mac’s wrist in his hand, gently placing it back by mac’s side.

“sorry, dude,” dennis said. “sorry. gonna crash in the back room, i think.”

charlie had struck his last note and was dramatically fading out, redirecting the room’s attention to mac and dennis, who stood near the door, attracting and repelling from one second to the next like broken magnets. 

“yeah,” dennis said finally, one desperate hand reaching up out of the depths of his drunkenness to hold on tight to reality and its consequences. “that old couch isn’t too disgusting, huh?”

after a moment of shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortable in the headlights of everyone’s stares, dennis stumbled into the gang’s office and slammed the door shut, allowing himself to fall into the dusty old leather couch. from outside, the sea of confused chatter - which was most certainly about him - was almost audible enough to be understood. 

dennis shoved a too-hard leather pillow pillow over his head, shutting the world out. the alcohol overtook his body within the minute, and the night disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 80s music just does that to gay people i dont make the rules


End file.
